


Mr. Baggins - A Portrait By Thorin Oakenshield’s Company

by Flor_of_Desert



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Character Study, Company's POV, Fix-It, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, My own version of the hobbit movies, POV Alternating, but inspired by another fic I read, what is fanfic if not denial persevering?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 71,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flor_of_Desert/pseuds/Flor_of_Desert
Summary: Mr. Baggins, as seen through the eyes of the members of Thorin's company, during their quest to retake Erebor from Smaug. He may look like an ordinary hobbit but make no mistake, there is nothing of common in Mr. Baggins and he is more than what the eyes may see.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Gandalf | Mithrandir, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins & Thranduil, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Nori (Tolkien), Fíli & Kíli & Legolas Greenleaf, Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien), Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 100
Kudos: 117





	1. Part I - Balin

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Discovering Mr Baggins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055167) by [Eareniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eareniel/pseuds/Eareniel). 



> I'm new at the Hobbit fandom (I thank my amazing friend for introducing me to the movies because I didn't know what I was missing!!) and after I watched, I read a lot - like a lot - fics (FIX IT BECAUSE HOW DARE PETER JACKSON TO END THE MOVIE LIKE THAT). And then I read Discovering Mr Baggins and fell in love with it - it's perfect and that reminded me I have to go there and leave a comment on her masterpiece.
> 
> So I decided as my vacation project, to write a fic similar to hers - the timeline follows hers but I added some traits (that I won't put in the tags to not spoil anything hehe). I hope you all enjoy it - I spent 15 days, I think, to write it - and it was all I did during these days lol.
> 
> If you find a mistake, I'm sorry - English is not my first language (lol Brazilian Portuguese is) and I just wrote it and didn't reread it (I am too excited to publish it so I'll leave the revision for another time).
> 
> Leave a comment - they make my day!! 
> 
> (don't worry about this being abandoned because it's all written and just the last chapter has to be finished with details but I'll do it this week) 
> 
> Enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When did I become too old for this adventuring?_ Balin questioned himself while riding alongside the dwarves. 
> 
> The dwarf was momentarily distracted by Thorin, whose keen eyes were also watching the halfling with suspicion. 
> 
> “Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t talk about our quest, Balin.”
> 
> It seemed that their burglar was not a gentlehobbit as Balin had initially thought.

Balin checked their supplies one last time before retreating for the night. He was entrusted by Thorin to supervise provisions for their long journey to regain Erebor. It was a relatively easy task, taking in consideration that he was familiarized with traveling a lot and packing only the essential. 

When Thorin announced his plans of going to their lost homeland, Balin was conflicted. He would always follow his leader wherever he decided to go - Thorin Oakenshield had proved his worth as the leader of their people many years ago, never fleeing from his responsibilities, even when grief would have driven many weak. But as his closest adviser and as a friend, Balin questioned Thorin’s motivations for this quest. 

Why now, when their kin was starting to prosper in Ered Luin? 

Initially when he proposed the idea to Balin and princess Dís, Balin was cautious to feel hope, his memory still fresh from the nightmare that was seeing a dragon invading their iron gates and burning everything alive without remorse. Dís had the opposite reaction expected of her. She seemed excited to retake Erebor from the beast and bring glory to the house of Durin once again.

As the days passed and turned into weeks, Thorin went to call their kin for aid and dwarves to form a company. It was then that Dís changed her opinions about their quest. Her sons, barely of age, would be coming along and she was to remain in Ered Luin as regent in her brother’s place. 

She understood the necessity to stay behind, having fulfilled the role more than once in her brother’s absence. As a mother, Balin could see her anguish in leaving her two boys in an almost certain suicide mission to accomplish glory. It was a noble reason, but it would not be enough solace for a mother if she lost her sons to it.

Balin sometimes witnessed their arguments at night, when no council member could see them. He could relate to her, having to present a composed front for others when you didn’t agree was a difficult task and as a royal family, in a barely formed kingdom, being in disagreement was dangerous and unwise. 

Tonight, she seemed determined to make her brother see reason. Balin listened outside the door without meaning to.

“This whole quest is doomed, Thorin. Why not stay here and focus on what we already have? Our kingdom here is finally becoming a prosperous home to our kin. Why abandon all of it now?”

“I simply wish to claim our birthwright back.” 

There was a pregnant pause. They must’ve reached a point where their next words would have to be very careful to not create a real fight. Balin knew that parting in bad terms was not desirable for any of the siblings.

“Must you take both of them with you?” Dís' voice had a note of resignation. With the young princes’ excitement, her worry had grown during the last weeks. She knew well her sons and their youthful joy seemed to be the cause of her distress. “They are barely of age! And you know they would follow you to face the Dark Lord himself, if you asked them.”

“They are adults who can make their own decisions.”

“They can, but it doesn’t mean they should.” Dís' voice was pleading. “I already watched grandfather becoming mad with gold sickness and destroying our people for it. You saw Frérin dying and father fleeing from battle. We both couldn’t stop mother from withering and dying before her time. Can you look into my eyes and promise me I won’t have to bury my own children after this quest of yours is finished?”

Thorin didn’t answer. Dís was really desperate if she was using Frérin as an argument. She knew it was a sore spot for Thorin. For both of them.

“I will never forgive you if either of them dies, Thorin.” 

Balin barely had time to step away when she opened the door. Dís slammed it shut. She saw him and didn’t try to put a brave face on. He had been hearing their arguments for more than a century, always being a point of calmness between the two. 

Dís approached him and they started walking together.

“I suppose it’s decided then.”

Balin nodded. They would be leaving tomorrow at first light.

“I know it’s foolish of me to try to stop my brother. Or any of you.” She said, somewhat civil. “You must be the maddest dwarves of all generations for supporting him.” 

“If it’s any comfort, someone sensible has to go with your brother to keep everything in line. Mahal knows I’m too old for this, but I can’t leave that responsibility with Dwalin. Could you imagine the outcome?” 

“By Valar, you are right in going with those thick skulls.” Dís replied more calmly, a trace of humor in her voice again. “Will you take care of my boys for me?”

Balin nodded solemnly and placed a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll take care of what I can, and when they become too difficult, I’ll leave them for Dwalin.” 

She snorted. 

They had reached her quarters. “Thank you, Balin. You have been a loyal friend to us.”

“It’s been a pleasure.”

“I hope Mahal gives you a safe journey,” she wished him before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

“Let us hope it will be,” Balin muttered and walked back to his room.

\--.--

 _When did I become too old for this adventuring?_ Balin questioned himself while riding alongside the dwarves. Watching their excitement would have made him animated too in another time, not so long ago, when traveling in his king’s name for diplomatic reasons. But observing their small group filled with anticipation and nervous energy, Balin was positively tired, having the opposite feeling of the ones involving his companions.

He was starting to understand the old dwarves that seemed to have endless complaints about anything that was different from their routine. Even with the pleasant climate, Balin was finding it difficult to sleep on the ground in the open sky feeling the chilly winds on his bones. His muscles protested each morning, stiff and heavy. It didn’t help that dwarves were not silent creatures by nature. Even in sleep, their camp was full of sounds. It was a miracle Balin managed to rest among them.

Of course he didn’t voice his complaints. Age had made him more understanding, and as he liked to think, a bit wise also. Balin was aware he had been like them once. Full of life and curiosity, easily seduced by stories and promises of gold. It had all changed the day the dragon came. The search for a new home and the hard days spent on dry lands, wandering without hope made his wild young spirit not so wild anymore. The burden was Thorin’s to carry but Balin took the responsibility to guide the young prince on his path, to advise and shape him into a capable leader.

After establishing their kin to Ered Luin, Balin had been transformed into an old dwarf, tired of dreams and more rational. They had been forced to overcome terrible events and he was proud of Thorin for the sensible leader he had turned into. That was one of the reasons why Balin could not comprehend Thorin’s determination to fulfill this quest. 

He had lived in Erebor’s mighty days. The gold there was incalculable and it would forever be where dwarves belonged. 

He missed his home there as he was sure Thorin and few others did.

Still, he continued to view things with a clean eye. Thorin could have chosen another time to start their quest. Gathered more support, allies. He was almost as if in a hurry to reclaim Erebor. Their plan was full of dead ends and vague parts, especially about the matter of Smaug. Balin was surprised none of the others seemed concerned about it. Killing a dragon was not an easy task and neither of them had the skill the warriors of the past had for it. 

_That is youth for you_ , Balin concluded. He would even bet many of them, had been born in Ered Luin, did not fully believe the dragon or thought it dead. He could not really blame them. It was not every day that news of dragon’s desolations reached kingdoms. Smaug had been the last and that was more than sixty years ago. Memories of the young didn’t hold such grave events to heart for long.

And that brought his mind back to the most important matter that could not be put off for long. How had Thorin been convinced to go on this quest - Balin had suspected Tharkûn had something to do with it. He knew his leader well, and Thorin had never once proposed such a risky mission. On the contrary, after the Battle of Azanulbizar, Thorin had been specially careful to not involve their kin - what was left of them - in wars or conflicts. And that included quests to reclaim the Lonely Mountain - it was not even mentioned among them, only in thoughts and wild dreams they would march there.

That was where Tharkûn entered. The wizard was famous in Middle Earth for wandering, with a talent for fireworks and meddling in affairs that did not concern him. After Thorin’s encounter with Gandalf, his unspoken desire was back in full force and he was ready to take back their homeland. Balin questioned the wizard’s motivation to support Thorin. What was his real interest in Erebor? If he wanted to get rid of the dragon, what was stopping him from killing it himself? It was not as if there was anyone on the mountain to stop him. Did he really expect a group of ragtag dwarves to slay a fire drake by themselves when armies of trained soldiers had not succeeded? 

Balin was abruptly pulled from his questions with Kíli’s exclamation. The young prince had caught the sight of the pub where they would spend the night. He was now racing towards it after betting with his brother. Thank Mahal for small mercies. Balin didn’t think he could sleep one more day on the ground and look out for the princes. With luck, his brother or Thorin would arrive and he would be able to relax a little with his watch on the princes. Dwalin was always better at keeping them in line than he was.

He sincerely hoped Thorin had obtained support from his cousin Dáin. The king could be eager for all he wanted but surely he would see sense that it would be impossible with only craftsmen and tradesmen to have success. There were warriors among them too but in two opposites: too old like him to actually fight with strength for an extended period or too young and reckless, not experienced enough to develop strategies or avoid simple mistakes.

If Dáin was not to help them, and Thorin insisted on continuing, Balin certainly would think him plain irresponsible. Not that he would abandon their quest - he was far too loyal for it and besides, he was already travelling with then, having signed a contract, one that he himself elaborated. He could not, would not, go backwards now. 

But as he saw the young princes drinking and singing loudly at the bar, not even a moment after leaving their horses at the stable and entering the pub, he considered giving Thorin a piece of his mind when he returned. The young princes had been playing pranks at poor Ori on the road since the day Thorin parted ways with the company. Balin had to calm the young dwarf and avoid more trouble caused by the two than he cared to remember. 

The pub was close to the Shire, and Balin was thankful for finally meeting their burglar. He was also curious. The wizard had been left in charge of choosing the fourteenth member of their company and Balin was dubious of his choice. Hobbits weren’t well known outside of the Shire, preferring to live a calm life and tending their own business. Balin knew they were gentlefolk. 

And that intrigued him. What had this hobbit of special that a dwarf didn’t? Nori was an excellent thief - so good that not even his brother Dwalin could catch him, and Balin had to listen to him complaining about the thief so often that he started doubting about his brother’s real motivations behind his complaints. Well, Balin couldn’t judge him. He supposed that after so many years, hate could be transformed in other feelings, such as the opposite, and the lines between the two could be blurry. 

Fortunately, the afternoon progressed slowly without incidents. Gandalf had at some point joined them.

“We should go now, before the light of day is gone,” he urged them outside, when the day showed the first signs of sunset, before they could start to indulge themselves in ale. “It has been years since I last traveled on these roads and I would not like to get lost in the dark. It is not very far and I left a note for Thorin to find us after he arrives.”

They followed Galdalf through various settlements and fields until the night settled and lights started to appear in the round windows of hobbit holes. The hobbits retreating for dinner and rest. The company walked through hills and a small copse, turning left until the wizard pointed at a hobbit hole with a green door on the top of the hill, looking very pleased with himself.

When they reached there, Balin understood why. There was a little rune indicating the final destination. The dwarf almost snorted. Trust the wizard to make a mark so small in a hole up the hill. If he had anything to say about it, he would bet Thorin would lose his way and never find the right door, not with a mark so discreet like that one. 

\--.--

“There lives our fourteenth member of this company,” Gandalf said, “we should split in pairs to not overwhelm him of our arrival.”

“Interesting,” Nori commented slyly, “why should we go in pairs. Was he not expecting us?”

Tharkûn looked a bit embarrassed - if a wizard could hold such an expression on his face. 

“He is a good fellow, likes having visitors.” 

“So he has no idea we were coming,” Nori continued. “This will be interesting.”

“Who is he, anyway? You never told us much about him.” Bofur questioned.

“Bilbo Baggins is a gentlehobbit too proud of his good manners. He is a scholar and a traveler, well known in the region. He will receive us,” the wizard said in a tone of finality, “if you are still in doubt, his pantry could feed half of the Shire. He is reluctant in joining our company and I was hoping that you lot could help me convince him.”

This erased most of their concerns and picked their interest. 

“And you are hoping to convince him by having thirteen hungry dwarves entering his home?” Balin asked incredulously. 

The wizard shrugged. “He will come around.”

“If he quick us out, you’ll buy us dinner.” Glóin said.

Then, Dwalin arrived and Gandalf had the idea, an incredible one in Balin’s vision, to send him first.

It was ridiculous to watch the dwarves entering the hobbit hole. It was obvious that this Bilbo had not been warned about the company that would dine in his house. Balin was observing from afar with the others, feeling pity for their burglar. His brother had just joined them after having secured the roads and he was the first to enter the hobbit’s hole. Balin knew his brother was a good dwarf but his manners were next to nonexistent, especially if he was dealing with strangers - and it would not matter that they had to cause a good impression to the hobbit if they wanted him to join the company. 

Why Gandalf hadn't warn the hobbit Balin would never understand. But at least, he could have sent the most sensible of them, himself, or someone less intimidating, maybe Ori. At the end, if things did not go smoothly, Balin could always lay the blame on Tharkûn as a consolation.

Gandalf turned to them with a smug smile when Dwalin entered the hobbit’s hole after a minute of negotiations. 

“What did I tell you? Now Balin, you should go next before your brother alarms the poor hobbit with his manners. It has been a few years since Bilbo last dealt with dwarves and he might feel a little overwhelmed. We will be right behind you.”

Balin had no argument against that logic. The wizard was awfully persuasive. If he had brought the idea to Thorin of their quest, the king had never had a chance to refuse. 

Neither did any of them. Balin could only hope Gandalf knew what he was doing.

\--.--

Inside the hobbit hole, Balin felt as if he was home. Not that dwarvish homes were cozy or this warm, or with this many decorations on walls and furnitures. Life in Ered Luin was simple and without luxuries. Even the royal family lived in simplicity. Since Erebor, Balin had not been in a place so rich as the hobbit’s home. But that was to make an exaggeration of the riches in Master Baggins home. It would be the most appropriate to deduce that the hobbit lived a comfortable life. 

It was funny to observe the hobbit attending the door and becoming more and more angry with the arrival of the other members of the company. He looked ready to cast them all out but his good manners would not let him. Balin felt pity for him but not nearly sufficiently enough to let aside his amusement and help him. 

And so, disarray was everywhere. With thirteen dwarves, it was expected to be a loud night. 

Balin, while amused, watched the hobbit with interest. There was something off about him that the older dwarf could not pinpoint. It was in the way he carried himself. His interactions were calculated and even angry he appeared to be holding himself back, which was funny because a tiny creature like him could never, by force, take on thirteen of them. 

Master Baggins could be seen going here and there trying to put order on the members of the company. It seemed that his brother was letting the princes run free. So much for a good first impression. 

As the dinner progressed, Balin observed Master Baggings turning from angry to resigned and mildly irritated. His well-bred manners were tested though, when Thorin arrived. He, in the privacy of his mind, thought it was a miracle that Thorin hadn't been thrown out by the hobbit. Balin watched Master Baggins taking a deep breath and saw how his fists closed in restraint. He was sure that only the shock of hearing insults openly on his face was what detained the hobbit of taking action. This and the dwarf's regal manner, as if he was the most important dwarf in the room and that his mere presence demanded respect, was what saved him from spending the night outside in the hobbit's garden.

After this encounter, Balin held no high hopes of convincing the hobbit to join their cause. But he had to admit, their host was doing an incredible work of not throwing them out. It was clear that Master Baggings tried to be a true gentleman with respectability. When Gandalf stood and went to the pantry to look for something, the hobbit didn't hesitate to follow him and have scolding words with him.

Balin tried discreetly to listen to their conversation. He still didn’t know the hobbit and as Thorin’s main adviser on this quest, he needed to be atentiful of every member’s character. Fortunately for him, hearing them was not difficult since their tone was not in whispers.

"Gandalf, what is the meaning of this? What are these dwarves doing in my home?" 

"My dear boy, did I not tell you about an adventure?" 

"Yes," he said fuming, "and I remember quite clearly telling you that I wanted nothing to do with it!" 

"Now, now, Bilbo Baggings, where's the fun in that," Gandalf seemed unconcerned about the hobbit's ire. "These dwarves need a fourteenth member and their goal is a noble one. Perhaps you could hear them first before rejecting their offer."

"Gandalf, you know I can't!" He whispered. "They are dwarves, for Valar's sake. You know this won't end well."

"Since when a little challenge is a hindrance for you?" Gandalf said and before the hobbit could reply, he continued, "and if it's because of your condition, I assure you they won't question my judgment of choosing you." 

"This is a terrible idea." Balin noticed from where he sat that the hobbit's shoulders were down and he looked resigned. Arguing with a wizard will do that to you. The next part was more difficult to hear as the hobbit murmured the words. "Why can't I just stay here? Am I not to fulfill my curse in peace, without involving myself in great matters?"

"My boy, I think you know well enough that living as a hobbit is hardly a challenge and could be questioned by many with great power. The only way to prove you are truly different is by showing actions."

Balin didn't understand this last part of the conversation. The words made sense but he could tell there was an entire subject that was spoken in underlines. He looked at the others and noticed they were all paying attention. In consequence, the noise had died down. Thorin most of all was listening, alert. It wasn't a surprise that he didn't trust the hobbit. He didn't trust anyone who wasn't of his kin – and even among them, the dwarf king chose friends carefully. 

Balin, aware that it would be impolite for them to be caught eavesdropping, quickly questioned Thorin about Dáin. 

"He won't help." 

"Why not? Isn't he our cousin?" Kíli questioned. 

Thorin looked ready to curse but detained himself. Kíli was young and still naive about matters like these. It would not be fair to him to receive a rash reply from his uncle. 

"It doesn't matter," and he held the attention of all, "no other dwarf will answer my call and neither will come to help. We are on our own."

The mood was instantly turned. Reality laid heavy upon them. Without help, their journey would be, at the end on the mountain, helpless. How were they supposed to kill a dragon?

At this point, Gandalf returned and intervened. The wizard produced a map and a key from his endless robes. This immediately animated the group. The hobbit, who was still reluctant and a little far from the dinner table, changed when he heard about the map. He approached them, but didn't seem interested in looking at the map. Strange. How did he want to know the details if he would not look at the map? But he seemed more inclined to listen to their quest than before and Balin would take what he could. Maybe his curious nature would overcome his concerns and he would relent in joining them.

\--.--

Balin was proved right in his assumptions by the next day when the hobbit ran towards them. He carried a full bag and a stick similar to Gandalf's, in his hand, he held the contract, signed. Balin turned to Thorin with an innocent smile. 

Thorin, whose mood had seen better days, was even more irritated after the arrival of Master Baggins. 

_Well, that's what you lose from doubting your adviser_ , Balin thought as he counted the coins inside the purse Thorin had tossed at him. It wasn't only him who was in a dark mood. Only Gandalf and Balin had bet in favour of the hobbit. Balin started questioning himself if the wizard wasn't supporting them for the coins. At this rate, he would be rich before they reached Erebor.

For the next few days, Thorin’s mood did not improve and a permanent frown had formed in the dwarf’s face. Balin wondered if it was because of the failed attempt at gaining support from Dáin or the iminent dragon ahead of them. No matter what, Thorin stayed closed off from the company and rode alone at the front, not even Dwalin could dissuade his bad humor. The wizard tried to exchange a few words but he received only glares and curt answers so he turned to the hobbit.

Master Baggins was a pleasant fellow if only a little timid. He seemed to have known Gandalf for some time because the two would sometimes talk for hours and murmur strange words when not feeling observed. Maybe hobbits had a secret language such as dwarves, Balin thought. But it still didn’t sit right with him - something was not entirely clear, and even without concrete proves, Balin had learned to trust his instincts when dealing with others. 

He couldn’t do anything about it though. It was just a feeling and he would be no advisor if he said things without at least one concret fact as a back up support. So he observed and drew his own conclusions. Master Baggins seemed unbothered by the company and he usually kept to himself, only talking to the wizard. Balin decided to remedy the situation by approaching the hobbit. He did not regret his decision for Master Baggins proved to be well versed in many subjects and not arrogant as most scholars tended to be. 

The only exotic thing, as Balin noticed, was that the hobbit didn’t tend to look at anything on the road, nor even their path to ensure the horse was going in the right direction, or anyone, even when spoken to, and he seemed foreign at the stares of others. And now that Balin reflected about it, the hobbit’s own poney appeared to be intimidated by him, never wanting to let him mount. These strange facts were, unfortunately, not unusual enough for drawing any kind of conclusion and Balin ended with more questions than answers about the hobbit’s character.

Perhaps the most queerly thing was not the hobbit himself as Balin initially thought, but their leader. Thorin, in the few moments when he was not glaring and frowning at the company, seemed rather uneasy around the hobbit. The older dwarf first thought that he was just being distrusting but looking more closely, the dwarf appeared uncomfortable and near at a loss of words when he was near the hobbit. Of course in their company, only Balin and Dwalin could really notice when Thorin was at a loss of words. For others, he would appear angry and even as if holding himself back from cursing. Balin doubted his brother had noticed but given time, he was sure Dwalin would see it too. What they would do with this information was another matter entirely.

\--.--

By the third day of their journey, they finally spotted the village of Bree. The sunset made the view reddish-golden. Thorin led them to a pub and handed the reins of his pony to a stable boy. The others were quick to follow, all eager for the prospect of a warm bed and good food.

They dismounted and followed Thorin inside. Master Baggins appeared overwhelmed for a moment, his stick on the floor feeling the space around. He had a lost look on his unfocused eyes that turned on a red light on Balin’s head. 

Balin was so focused on connecting this new information with what he already had in his mind about the hobbit, that he didn’t notice that Master Baggins’ hesitation lasted for only a brief moment, and in the next, the hobbit had disappeared from his view. Balin looked for him and found the hobbit with a mug of ale in a table placed in the corner, close to the windows, alone. 

The dwarf was momentarily distracted by Thorin, whose keen eyes were also watching the halfling with suspicion. 

“Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t talk about our quest, Balin.” And then he was off, walking away. Balin was already going to observe the hobbit but now he was going to have to be more thorough since he would probably have to report to Thorin in the morning. That also meant he would not be able to enjoy the ale as much as he was planning to.

Well, at least he would enjoy a warm bed at night and good food, even without ale, he was looking forward to it.

Balin grabbed a plate of food, throwing one last look at their company and the racket they were causing at the table. Thorin was exchanging words with his nephews and by the looks of it, they were in trouble again. Balin signed. At least his task for the night would be more calm, if not boring. But the dwarf didn’t mind being bored, he could be almost considered a politician, dealing with boring was his daily work. He proceeded to sit close to the hobbit, to listen to his conversations.

It didn’t take long for a group of hobbits to enter the pub and soon enough they were asking to sit with the hobbit.

“How have you been, Master Baggins?” One of them asked.

“We haven’t seen you around here in years!” Another commented. “You were always passing by, but now you haven’t visited for ages. What happened?” 

Balin observed the hobbit’s face. His expression assumed a heavy shade, his eyes remained unfocused and facing nowhere in particular. 

“Traveling does not hold the same spark for me anymore, Mister Roper. I decided to focus on taking care of Bag End and my own business for the time being.”

“You took it from Bungo?” Mister Roper asked with curiosity.

“Yes, when he passed away a little more than a decade ago,” Master Baggins told them. “I had promised to take care of his wife for him and couldn’t leave her alone for going on a trip.”

“And how is Belladonna?”

“She passed away as well, a few years ago. Couldn’t bear to be separated from him,” he said softly.

His companions expressed their sympathy and they ordered more beer, starting a discussion about relatives and friends, both alive and dead. Balin was positively bored and was starting to doze off when the conversation turned once again to an interesting topic.

“How are you coping with the noise?” Mister Gamgee asked.

It wasn’t nearly loud enough for a question like this, Balin thought. It was true that as the night progressed, more drunk the folks got and more noise was made. But it was still at a good volume that you did not need to raise your voice to talk to others close to you at a table.

Balin observed attentively for Master Baggins' response.

“It’s not bothering me as much as I thought it would,” he replied. “I think all these years in the Shire made me unaccustomed to loud places full of people.” 

“Still not a fan of parties?” Mister Roper teased.

“No, and I don’t think I will ever be.” He told them with a smile.

“Well then, what brings you here, if not an adventure?” 

“I have business in the east and these dwarves were kind to let me go with them. With the dangers on the roads I couldn’t risk going alone.”

“Aye, especially if you can’t see the trouble coming,” Mister Hay commented.

Bilbo had a thin line on his lips, as if offended but not willing to contradict the words. 

Why not, Balin questioned himself. Perhaps because - . No, but that couldn’t be true. Gandalf had chosen him, personally assured them that Master Baggins was a burglar. But it all made sense now to Balin as he connected the pieces together. Master Baggins hesitancy to approach them at the table in Bag End and not trying to look at the map. His lost look on the road, not caring about the path. The way he held his stick when they entered the pub, as if it were an extension of his own body.

Their burglar was blind. 

His eyes were perfectly normal if one wasn’t looking for any details in particular. But Balin was, and he found proof that sustained it. Master Baggins could’ve passed for a normal hobbit all along had Balin not spied on his conversation. But why would he not tell them about his blindness? How was Gandalf expecting him to steal from a dragon if he could not see?

How in Mahal’s name had neither of the members of the company noticed? _The same way I hadn’t_ , Balin thought. He was so lost in his mind that he didn’t realize that the hobbit had finished his conversation. Balin was taken aback by the sudden appearance of a hobbit in front of him. Gandalf was right in telling them hobbits were light on their feet and passed unnoticed if they chose to do so. 

“You know, it’s impolite to listen to other people’s conversations,” Master Baggins said.

Balin had no explanations to offer. He had been caught up in his mind and forgot to retreat and inform Thorin of his discoveries. He would have avoided this awkward moment. It was rare for Balin to be without words.

“Judging by your silence, something made you shocked,” he did not ask but his tone made it clear enough. 

“Are you blind, Master Baggins?” Balin asked, not seeing the point in dancing around the subject.

“I am.”

Well, now that his suspicions were confirmed, Balin was unsure of how to proceed. The hobbit seemed content in waiting for him to organize his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Balin inquired, “did you plan to wait for us to discover when we reached Erebor?”

“I didn’t say anything because your reaction will be the same other dwarves will have, if not worse.” Master Baggins told him, resigned. “People, no matter the race, always react the same way. You now think I’m an invalid or at least, incapable of going on this quest.” His tone challenged Balin to disagree.

“Of course you are!” Balin exclaimed. He was blind, for Mahal’s sake!

“Of course not,” Master Baggins replied with calm.

“Then tell me, Master Baggins, how exactly do you plan to steal from a dragon?” Balin let the exasperation be heard in his voice. 

“I don’t need to see to be able to steal, Master Balin,” he said somewhat sadly, as if he had had a similar argument more than once. 

“I don’t think it’s wise for you to accompany us anymore, Master Baggins." 

“I have my methods to pass through that dragon, Master Balin," the hobbit continued, insistently. "Besides, Gandalf chose me, didn’t he?” This time his voice carried a different timbre, hypnotic almost. Balin listened and then...nothing. He could not remember why exactly he was so worried about...something. 

“You...are right, I think,” Balin said after a moment.

“Of course I am,” the hobbit said, “Oh heavens, it’s late, don’t you think?” 

The pub around them was almost empty and all the dwarves had already withdrawn for the night. Even Gandalf was gone.

“Yes,” Balin answered but he was still feeling confused. 

“We should sleep. Come along Master Balin, let’s rest.” Balin let the hobbit guide him through the stairs to his room that he would be sharing with his brother. “Good night, Master Balin,” and the hobbit sounded his timid self again. He turned and left Balin there wondering what had happened.

The next morning found Balin still confused and his memory foggy about the events of the previous night. Thorin found him eating breakfast and quietly trying to put together pieces that he was sure had formed a complete picture last night. 

“What did you find about him, Balin?” Always direct Thorin was.

“Nothing that I can remember,” he said carefully.

“That you can remember,” Thorin repeated slowly, “you are not the forgetting type Balin. And I know you didn’t drink that much ale to question your judgement. What happened?”

“That is the strange part, Thorin. I remember listening to the halfling’s conversation, but I can’t remember what they talked about.” He said with a frown. “I remember that something was -” he cut himself, “not something. Pieces, Thorin. The pieces were coming together, like a puzzle in my mind.”

Thorin nodded for him to continue.

“But when I finally formed the image, I,” Balin was unsure of how to continue, “the image was simply gone, and I can’t, for the life of the Creator, to remember what I had discovered.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing, it’s as if I hadn’t even the pieces to start the puzzle. All gone.” 

Thorin nodded and started to think. 

“Balin,” he said, “I know what you discovered is related to the halfling but do you think he was responsible for your sudden lack of memories?” he asked carefully, without giving any indication of what he was thinking.

“It’s difficult to be sure. But it would be our best lead.”

“Let’s keep an eye on him, then. I would tell you to avoid him but that may raise suspicion. Just be careful, Balin.” 

“I will be.”

“And if you remember something, I want to know.”

Balin nodded. It seemed that their burglar was not a gentlehobbit as Balin had initially thought. 

_To be continued..._


	2. Part II - Bombur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bombur found out he had much in common with the hobbit and he enjoyed his company.  
> Bombur perhaps did not know their leader very well but he noticed he wasn’t the only one observing his odd behaviour. As the head of the company, Thorin couldn’t, or shouldn’t, appear wary of one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!

Bombur was a cook, which meant that he had an exquisite taste that most of the dwarves did not possess. He was a simple dwarf, he did appreciate the good things in life, such as a nice home, and mainly good food, preferably a lot of it if it could be provided. The place that brought him most contentment was his kitchen and his spoons. He would always, given the choice, to pick a spoon rather than a sword. Not that he was not capable of fighting, he just didn’t find pleasure in violence and preferred to avoid it.

That was the main reason why he was reluctant to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield. When he heard that the king was looking for dwarves to retake Erebor, he didn’t pay much attention because he knew those types of adventures were not for a dwarf like him. What place could he have in facing a dragon? But of course his brother Bofur had to be excited about it. He talked for days about joining the quest, he spoke so many words and repeated them so many times that Bombur was sure he had started decorating his cakes and pies with words such as ‘quest’, ‘Erebor’, ‘gold’, and ‘Thorin’. It became ridiculous to the point where he was considering joining just to have a moment of peace with his food.

Thanks to Bofur, he found himself weeks later on the road with the rest of the dwarves, a wizard and a hobbit. Bombur could never tell no to his brother anyway. At least his brother’s excitement had been contagious and he was, for the beginning, animated too, even if the weeks on the roads had gradually lowered his enthusiasm. 

The good part on the road was to be able to talk to his brother and cousin, Bifur. He had never had the opportunity, nor the time, to talk for endless hours with them since they were dwarflings. And so they spoke about gold and treasures hidden in Erebor. They discussed the map and where could possibly be the location of the door, how it would be to see Erebor. They made plans for how each one would spend the money, and Bombur declared that he would travel all around Middle Earth, tasting exotic foods and exchanging recipes with other races. His brother and cousin had laughed at him at that comment. 

The bad part of traveling for weeks was the exhaustion and discomfort of being in a saddle all day long. There was also the problem of food. While they had sufficient for two or even three meals a day, Thorin gave preference to covering ground to regular meals intervals, and when they stopped to eat it was usually limited to one portion for dwarf. That meant that Bombur didn’t eat nearly enough to satisfy his appetite. He wasn’t starving but he certainly could eat a lot more. 

Consolation for Bombur was to notice that he wasn’t the only one suffering. He wasn’t the type to complain out loud, especially if Thorin was near. But their hobbit didn’t know their leader as well as the others did. So he complained, about his forgotten handkerchiefs, the rain, the noisy dwarves, gold, the wizard who had dragged him along and other things that Bombur hadn’t paid attention to. 

But after the first few days of complaining, Dwalin had threatened to tie the hobbit up and leave him behind, earning laughs of the others and a wide eyes from the hobbit in question. He stayed quiet since then, and if he complained, it was muttering to himself at the back of the company, far away from Dwalin and Thorin’s ears. Bombur would never admit but he, for most of the complaints, agreed with the hobbit.

As a cook, all the meals provided were Bombur’s responsibility. Fíli and Kíli and sometimes others went outside the camp and hunted an animal for them. Bombur was skinning a deer this time when the hobbit wandered over and sat down on the log close to him. 

“Can I help you, Master Bombur?” He asked, head inclined down timidly, as if afraid of rejection.

Bombur looked around at the various dwarves preparing the camp for the night. It was still early and a short pause would not be bad. He gave a small smile to the hobbit. 

“I was thinking about making some roasted venison but I still have to look for the herbs I need.” He told him. “But I’m afraid I’m not very good at picking herbs from other plants.”

“I could certainly help you with that. You see, I have a garden at home and I’m quite familiarized with finding herbs.” Master Baggins said happily.

The hobbit took his stick with him and together they went into the forest to pick herbs. Bombur listened to him talk about his garden while he used the stick to feel the ground around him. Bombur privately thought it was a good idea since the night was falling upon them and very little natural light entered the dense forest to help their vision. 

As they worked, Bombur noticed that he had much more in common with the hobbit than he initially thought. Master Baggins seemed in dire need of company. Bombur saw him talking to Gandalf most of the time the wizard spared him when not arguing with Thorin. There was also Balin who talked to the hobbit at the beginning of their journey but Bombur hadn’t seen them talking much for a while. For someone who lived in a place like the Shire, Master Baggins was probably used to frequent company of neighbors or even relatives. He must’ve been very lonely traveling with them. Bombur could sympathise since he wasn’t spoken to very much either, apart from his brother and cousin.

Bombur was often asked for favours but few of the dwarves were interested in him personally. He was used to it but didn’t mean he liked it. So far, the company had treated him well but he was aware of some who didn’t want more of him than his food.

Master Baggins was different though. Unlike Bombur, he wasn’t a dwarf, which meant he was usually excluded from conversations and jokes. The hobbit was left by himself and ignored. It didn’t help that he looked soft and like he had never done a day of hard work in his life. There was the case of Balin to consider also. The dwarf appeared to be making a tentative friendship with the hobbit but something along the way had cut their relationship almost completely. The rest of the company took it as a sign to not approach the hobbit if it could be avoided. 

The company of Thorin Oakenshield was, for the most part, an impenetrable united group of acquainted friends and relatives. Hardly a place for an outsider from another race. Master Baggins was aware of it and he kept to himself, his eyes distant and keeping his place at the back of the company when they rode.

Since that first night picking herbs, Bombur found out he had many interests in common with the hobbit and he enjoyed his company. It did not matter that Balin had had a disagreement with the hobbit and now cast him suspicious looks over his shoulder. Bombur wouldn’t let opinion’s of others influence his choice of company. They developed a routine by night. The hobbit generally wasn’t asked to do anything, so he helped Bombur to prepare dinner. They could often be seen wandering in the forest collecting plants and herbs. Master Baggins, Bombur discovered, was a true lover of food and enjoyed cooking. From there, it wasn’t hard to exchange recipes and chat about different dishes they enjoyed to prepare.

One night, the hobbit was unusually silent, instead of his chatty persona. He was chopping vegetables but Bombur could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He had a faraway look in his eyes and he was holding tightly the knife, his knuckles white. 

Bombur, not wanting to have his friend getting hurt accidentally or his best kitchen knife broken, tried to talk and discover what was bothering so much the hobbit. 

“Let’s pick some mushrooms for the stew before it gets too dark.” He said gently, taking the knife from the hobbit’s hands.

Master Baggins huffed out a mirthless laugh but got up to join him.

He was still silent and tense, his stick hitting the path more harshly. _That won’t do_ , Bombur thought. Friends came first. He couldn’t guess but he could ask what was wrong.

“What’s the matter, Master Baggins?”

“I just feel useless sometimes, you know?” He had an air of resignation in him. It was obvious that it was a rhetorical question and Bombur stayed silent until he had composed himself to continue.

“In the Shire, people are used to me,” he told Bombur, “I know the company is still suspicious of me. And I know their opinions of me aren’t the most flattering. But I thought that by now, I would receive responsibilities as any other member of the company.”

That Bombur could comprehend, although not relate to. The first part though was a little strange for him. Maybe some cultural difference between them that explained the hobbit’s complaint about his home?

“People are used to your manners in the Shire?” Bombur asked, genuinely interested.

Master Baggins hesitated. It was clear he didn’t mean for it to be spoken. 

“In the Shire, I,” he started unsure, “you see, I’m not.” He cut himself, nervous. “I am different, Bombur,” he gestured to his stick.

Bombur didn’t understand at first. What did his stick have to do with anything? It was just a carved piece of wood used to help someone to support weight or to guide -

_Oh_.

It wasn’t just a stick, was it?

“Yeah, I’m blind Bombur.” Master Baggins - no, Bilbo said. 

“Blind, Master Baggins?” 

“Yes. You could say I was born this way.” He shrugged but Bombur could see he was bracing himself for his reaction.

“Well, you certainly do an incredible job at hiding it.” The dwarf finally told him. “If you hadn’t told me, I would’ve never guessed.”

Bilbo seemed less tense now. He huffed a laugh.

“Well, it’s not like I go around telling everyone. I can take care of myself and I don’t need help as others tend to think.” He said, “In the Shire, most hobbits don’t know and those who do, know better than to try to treat me like an invalid. But strangers tend to…”

“Treat you differently.” Bombur concluded.

“Yes.” Bilbo agreed. “I knew I would be an outsider when I joined the company. I’m not a dwarf and you didn’t know me beforehand. But I expected, given time, to make friends or at least have friendly conversations.”

“Is this why you and Balin aren’t talking anymore?”

Bilbo flinched. Trust a dwarf to be direct about things.

“No. I,” he said carefully, “caught him listening to a private conversation I was having with some hobbits when we were at Bree.”

“Ah,” Bombur replied as if that made sense.

“I’m sorry?”

“Balin wasn’t listening to your conversation because he wanted to. Probably.” Bombur explained. “You know he is Thorin’s adviser, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know. But what does that have to -” he stopped. “Oh.”

“Aye.” The dwarf agreed. 

“Why would Thorin -” he said, still processing the information. “Of course he would. Is he always so paranoid, Bombur? Or is it just me?”

“I couldn’t tell,” the dwarf said apologetically, “I’m not close to him. I usually see him because he goes to the kitchen to steal my pies but we don’t talk much.”

Bilbo noded, as if he could sense the truth in Bombur’s explanation. 

“Well, I guess I commited a grave mistake of character.” 

“It would appear so.” 

“Well, before I apologize, I have to help you to finish the stew. Come on, Bombur, I think I smell some mushrooms over there.”

With that, they resumed their work. 

“I believe, Master Baggins,” Bombur said after some time in silence, “that if you and Balin resolve your differences, others will treat you better.”

“Why is that?”

“Most of us tend to follow Thorin, and Thorin’s most trusted dwarves are Dwalin and Balin in the company. The others tend to imitate their attitude, that includes accepting you as part of the company or not.”

“Most do but not you, Bombur?” Bilbo had a smile playing on his lips.

“I am used to people interested in my food and not my person.” He told Bilbo. “It’s difficult to make friends because of that. Why wouldn’t I talk to you when we have a lot in common? Middle Earth can be a lonely place if you resign yourself to follow ideas and behaviours of few. Especially because misunderstandings in different cultures can happen a lot.” 

“You are a good friend Bombur.” Bilbo said, face turned to the dwarf and eyes almost looking at him.

“As are you, Master Baggins.”

“Call me Bilbo, please.”

“Bilbo.”

“I think there’s enough mushrooms for the stew, Bombur. It’s better to return before they send a search party after us. Wouldn’t want to have grump dwarves complaining about the lack of stew.”

On the way back, Bombur remembered something that he had been wanting to ask the hobbit about but hadn’t the chance. Now seemed a perfect occasion.

“Why did you join the company, Bilbo?” Bombur said. “I remember you were reluctant to even hear about the quest in your home. And you knew that your disability would be against you in other’s opinions of you.”

Bilbo paused at that. He laughed.

“You know, Bombur, I don’t know it either! I lead a comfortable life in the Shire and I don’t know what came over me to exchange that for months of sleeping on the ground and being wet from the rain. I guess I just woke up that morning and decided that Gandalf was right - since when did Bag End and its furnishings have become more important than people for me? And I thought, ‘a little adventure wouldn’t be that bad’ so I came. It simply felt right.”

Bombur nodded in understanding. Then he remembered that Bilbo couldn’t see him. 

“Aye. I didn’t want to come either at first.”

“Really?”

“My brother convinced me to go. He spent weeks talking nonstop about the quest. I agreed to come just to shut him up.” Bilbo laughed. “Not all of us are adventurers as Bofur or Nori. Some of us have more in common with hobbits than you can imagine.”

“You mean, you prefer a home cooked meal over battles and quests.” 

“You are quite right.”

\--.--

They were arranging the logs a few days later when Bofur sat down next to him and observed him cooking. “I noticed that you have made a new friend with our burglar, dear brother.”

He shrugged, not willing to say anything. It had been like this between them. Bofur would try to obtain information to satisfy his curiosity and Bombur would pretend to be ignorant to frustrate his brother. It was one of Bombur’s favorite games. Sometimes he managed to tire his brother out and he would go look for their cousin to nag him instead.

“Come on, Bombur. I’m your brother, you can’t leave me in the dark. The company is curious about him.”

“Are they, really? The easiest way would be to just talk to him if you’re so full of curiosity.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

“I overheard Balin and Thorin talking about him.”

Bofur didn’t say anything more, trying to make Bombur curious. Too bad he already had questioned the hobbit himself about the incident. 

“Well then, it’s unfortunate that you don’t have all the facts and can’t ask for the entire version without rising questions.”

His brother looked at him shocked.

“How do you know?”

“You act as if the hobbit is a dangerous beast that you have to run away from and observe from far.” Bombur said. “I, on the other hand, simply asked him one day when the moment seemed appropriate. I won’t tell you because I doubt Bilbo would like to know his conversations were being spilled.” And the dwarf noted to himself how ironic that was. 

“Then how am I supposed to know the whole story, dear brother?”

“You could ask the hobbit yourself,” and Bombur enjoyed seeing the annoyed look on his brother’s face, “after you become his friend, of course.”

“Of course.” He said. “Still, I think I’ll wait a little more before I try that. Run out of all other options first.”

Bombur huffed but didn’t say anything else.

From the other side of the camp, they could see the hobbit wandering towards Balin. He spoke to him for a moment and then both walked away, probably going for a private place. 

Bombur smiled. If it was just a misunderstanding, he was sure they would be on speaking terms soon enough. He turned to his brother, who was also observing the scene.

“Do you think they’ll resolve whatever happened between then?” 

“I like to believe that Balin is a reasonable dwarf. And Bilbo seems to be a good hobbit. I don’t see why they could not reach an understanding.”

Bofur nodded.

\--.--

Much later, when the company was arranging their bedrolls, the brothers observed the hobbit picking something up from his bag. He sent a dirty look in the general direction of the princes, took his stick and disappeared going to the direction of the river. Bombur couldn’t believe how he hadn’t seen before that Bilbo was blind. Now that he knew it, he thought it oblivious. How come their company not notice it?

Five minutes later, Bilbo was back, a sour expression on his face. He left his stick next to his bedroll and walked towards Bombur. He sensed he wasn’t alone and greeted his brother.

“Good evening, Master Bofur.” How in Mahal’s name the hobbit knew who was without mistaking any of the dwarves was something Bombur would never understand.

“Master Baggins.” Bofur grinned and bowed his head a little. Bilbo relaxed a bit, and sat next to them on a nearby log. 

“There was a spider in my bedroll. Again.” He glared at the princes. And again, Bombur didn’t know how he knew where they were. It was better to leave some questions unanswered.

“How many times was it with this?”

“Four.” Bilbo counted. “First a frog, then a snake, and for the last two, spiders.” 

Bofur coughed to hide his laugh.

“Why are they doing this?”

“I think it’s a rite of passage.” Bofur replied.

“For what?”

“Well, it’s their form of seeing if you are funny or have a sense of humor to later be offered their friendship.” Bofur explained. “It happened with Ori before you.”

“Poor Ori, he almost cried when he saw the snake in his bag one morning.” Bombur recalled. 

“If this is their way of making friends, they have much to learn from life.” Bilbo said, still not amused. “I dare to say that it’s not even original. It’s a prank for children and they’re old enough to elaborate something better.”

“I think they wanted to see you scream like Ori did,” Bofur told Master Baggins.

“What prank would you play?” Bombur asked, curious. “You seem to have a certain knowledge about the subject.”

Bilbo smiled. 

“Hobbit children and tweens are full of mischief. Even the older ones, before being of age. They used to play all sorts of pranks on each other and the adults. Generally for stealing fresh pies and cakes from windows. Parents and other families don’t usually do much about it because it became some sort of tradition and it’s acceptable until a certain age to play pranks. I don’t see a problem with it, personally. But more than once, I left my freshly baked pie on the counter, windows closed, sometimes even locked, and returned to an empty counter.” Bilbo told them. “So I started to bake all kinds of pies. I wandered not too far in the forest and brought home my own supply of ‘food’ to bake exotic pies, if you understand what I’m saying.”

Bombur laughed along with Bofur.

“What happened?”

“Well, after a while, they stopped stealing my sweets. I believed they spread a rumor saying I was a mad hobbit that ate spiders, snakes and mouses. Mad Baggins, the kids called me.”

“I wonder why,” Bofur said amused.

“Maybe you should tell them about your own pranks, Bilbo. Mahal knows the princes would enjoy a tale like that.” Bombur suggested.

“I don’t want to give those two any more ideas.” Bilbo said.

“You could always pay in the same coin,” Bofur told the hobbit, “put a spider in their bedrolls.”

“That is a good idea. But it's not wise. Can you imagine what Thorin would say if he heard about it? I prefer not to be chewed out by him if I can help it.”

“Haven’t thought of it.” Bofur said.

“Maybe if you talked to them, you could avoid finding more animals in your bag.” 

“Do you think they would listen to me?”

“We dwarves can be a little thick and dense.” Bombur said and Bofur agreed. “Unless you say something, they probably won’t take a hint.”

“I’ll go talk to them.” And he left to talk to the princes.

“Not so bad for a second impression.” Bofur said after a while.

“Aye,” Bombur agreed, “he’s not that different. His manners may be strange but he is more similar to us than we gave him credit. He enjoys most things that we do, good food, a drink, amusing stories and friends to talk to. Which appears to be scarce around here.” 

Together they watched Bilbo approach Fíli and Kíli. The hobbit had a serious expression on his face while he talked and the brothers looked ashamed but soon enough they started to be amused again. They sat together and Bilbo appeared to be telling them something funny. Soon enough and they were talking animatedly through the night.

\--.--

A few days passed and they were once again on the road, riding their ponies. Thorin was being moderated in their pace than the last previous days. Bilbo was in the front listening animatedly to Kíli while the dwarf made crazy gestures and Fíli laughed at him. If Bilbo could see, Bombur was certain he would have noticed their leader throwing questioning glances at the trio. 

Bombur perhaps did not know their leader very well but he noticed he wasn’t the only one observing his odd behaviour. As the head of the company, Thorin couldn’t, or shouldn’t, appear wary of one of them. Privately, he was free to make his own judgements and even, as he had done, ask for an investigation. But in the front of the entire company, he undermined their union as a group, putting doubts in them. Bombur didn’t fight a lot, but he understood food and the parallels were similar enough that the wisdom in them remained the same. You can and should mix different spices together to create something unique with a pleasant texture. But if you favored one flavor more, the dish would become unbalanced and poor. 

It wasn’t just Bombur who thought that, he could see Balin observing Thorin too. He wondered what he considered of this position their leader had taken. Bombur observed that after Bilbo had talked to Balin, the air around the company seemed better, more joyful. Most dwarves still maintained their distance from the hobbit but they weren’t acting suspicious anymore. One battle per time and the hobbit might arrive at Erebor with more friends than when he left his Shire.

The sunset was beautiful to appreciate, and Bombur settled for a lazy pace, at the back with his cousin. Soon enough it would be time to stop for camp and prepare dinner again. 

“I hope we’ll eat something other than that stew.” 

Bombur heard someone saying and immediately looked for the dwarf who had spoken it. Óin.

“Aye, I’m tired of eating the same thing over and over again.” Dori joined him.

“We could have roasted meat for a change.” Óin continued.

And the more they spoke, murmurs of agreement started to follow from others who were paying attention to the conversation. 

Bombur always tried to be patient and kind with everyone, he didn’t take into consideration those who weren’t interested in him but in his culinary instead. He didn’t get angry very often. But after hearing them complaining? He could feel the blood in his face, boiling in anger. Those dwarves were tired of his stew? 

He will show them his stew and tell them where to stick it when they beg him for food, bunch of ungrateful dwarves. He dismounted, fuming. He walked away from them, going closer to the river. 

They were making camp and he should be cooking dinner, but today he would let them by themselves if they were so tired of his stew. His culinary abilities were a sensible point for him.

He sat down and sulked for a little while when he heard a cough. Bombur immediately reached for his knife but when looked up, he saw Bilbo. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

“Go ahead,” Bombur told him, “I can’t guarantee I’ll be a pleasant company right now.”

“It’s alright,” Bilbo said. “I think you’re right to not want to deal with them. They are a bunch of ungrateful dwarves. And hypocrites too.”

Well, at least someone was reasonable too.

“Is that what you think?” Bombur said lowering his voice so that they wouldn’t be heard should anyone go looking for them.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied with conviction, “they are complaining with full bellies of having warm food for dinner every night even though none of them can cook even if their lives depended on it.”

Bombur smiled. Trust a hobbit to cheer him up. 

“If you still are feeling a bit vindictive, I could always show you a few herbs that mixed together leave a very pleasant sensation on the stomach after.” Bilbo said, smugly. 

The hobbit had a strange aura around him when he said it. Bombur could tell he was joking but he gradually felt enveloped in a mist of mischief, and it did not feel natural. The dwarf felt a note of danger on the edges of Bilbo’s smile, and he did not even know how he could distinguish those subtle changes on the hobbit’s face. He looked around them, the river continued to flow and the temperature was pleasantly warm, and the spell was broken.

“I’ll let you know if it comes to it.” Bombur replied, a little dizzled. 

They stayed in silence after that. Before returning, Bilbo collected some herbs. When they arrived at camp, he told Bombur to leave dinner with him. Bombur was a little apprehensive, taking into consideration that the hobbit had just shown him a dark side. But Bilbo assured him.

“I’ll take care of things tonight, _do not worry_.” Again, his voice carried a non natural tone, but Bombur found in himself no energy to protest, as if he had to leave things for the hobbit to take care of.

Bilbo made dinner with a dexterity that had Bombur questioning himself if the hobbit was truly disabled as he had claimed. Sometimes, the hobbit appeared to have two sides. Bombur could almost describe it as two halves of the same coin. He still was Bilbo, a gentlehobbit who talked animatedly and was a little lonely and timid. But there was a side of him that Bombur was coming to discover, and he knew very little of it, that carried a more witty personality, with dark humour and a fluidity of movements, and he was finding it unnerving to observe on display.

Soon, the dwarves were eating the roast Bilbo had prepared. Bilbo appeared to be back on his normal self. He was calmly eating it without a worry. Bombur had half of mind to question what exactly the hobbit had done to their food but since he was eating it too, he couldn’t. And Thorin would have their heads if he suspected anything, especially with the food. 

When he finished, Bombur didn’t notice anything different. The taste had been normal. Maybe Bilbo just had strange moments, perhaps a hobbit peculiarity?

Bombur noticed the effects on the following days though. The company’s mood seemed more calm and the conversations were scarce. With the exception of Bilbo himself, Bombur, his brother and Gandalf, everyone seemed dull and tired. 

Bombur caught Gandalf speaking privately with Bilbo the night after, quite harshly in a low tone.

“What do you think you are doing, Bilbo Baggins?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gandalf.”

“You know exactly what I’m referring to,” the wizard said, irritated. “The company is in a sluggish mood ever since you feed them. What have you done?”

“I simply helped Bombur with the food, Galdalf. They insulted him, you know?”

“And you decided to take upon yourself to avenge him?” Gandalf scolded.

“No, that’s not what I’ve said,” his tone was dangerous. “I just thought that they could have a taste of their own wishes.” 

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said.

“I didn’t do anything serious, wizard. You can rest assured. I just –“ he cut himself, unsure, “it wasn’t fair to Bombur to receive such comments. I swear I didn’t do anything permanent, the effect will pass in a few days. They just deserved to reflect, and what better way to do it than with a little dullness to conceal their tempers?”

The wizard shook his head, disapproving.

“I won’t promise to not do it again, but,” Bilbo bended, “I promise to be more careful.”

“It’s not your lack of discretion that I fear, my friend.” Gandalf said melancholic. “I don’t want to see you losing opportunities to make friends when we’re so early in our quest. And I won’t be always here to mediate things and to warn you’ve gone too far.”

“I know.”

“Can I trust you with these dwarves, Ihûg?” 

“Yes.” Bilbo answered sincerely. “I will do anything in my power to protect them.” 

“Good.”

And if that didn’t confirm Bombur’s suspicions, he did not know what could. But he decided to wait before judging the hobbit. After all, if he had the same abilities, the dwarf perhaps would have done the same.

There was one thing he was sure of – there was more in Bilbo Baggins than what eyes could see. 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an interlude to post before the next chapter and I'll probably post it during the week and the next chapter on Sunday (02/14/2021)


	3. Interlude I - Bilbo and Balin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ended up blowing on his face much earlier than he anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!
> 
> This is the first interlude we'll have of three - it's a mini chapter and very brief. I thought about posting in a separate work but...nah
> 
> Enjoy and don't worry, I'll post the actual chapter on Sunday (or Saturday). This is just a bonus.

Bilbo was nervous to approach Balin. He had started to like the dwarf when things had gone south. He knew from the beginning that altering his memories would blow up in his face later. But at the time, he hadn’t had time to explain himself to the old dwarf. They had to sleep, and he was sure that if he left the matter to the next day, Thorin and the entire company would have known. He would cause conflict without necessity, and Galdalf would have to interfere and whatever chances he might have of becoming part of the company would be destroyed.

So he had made Balin’s memories confused and foggy. It was the quickest way to solve the matter. He would have let Balin with his memory intact if only he had a better reaction. Bombur was a little shocked, Bilbo could tell, but he didn’t let it cloud his vision as Balin had - as most people usually tended to do.  


It wasn’t that he was completely blind per se.

The truth was more complicated than that. He was cursed. That’s why he couldn’t see.

It didn’t affect his other senses – which were keener than any other species in Middle Earth. So he was more than capable alone. Actually, he was more at advantage, even without his eyes, than the entire company and the wizard together.

It ended up blowing on his face much earlier than he anticipated. Balin must've had words with Thorin soon after and the result was that no other dwarf approached him. No one until Bombur. He had to contempt himself with Gandalf for company. Which was nice enough but being who he was, his nature would never let him be entirely comfortable in a wizard’s presence. Nothing personal, and feelings outside, he really liked Gandalf, except when he was meddling in his business and sending him to a quest with thirteen dwarves to kill a dragon. Did the wizard even realize the irony in this? Bilbo could have switched sides long ago but it didn’t mean that he was eager to start befriending dwarves and doing glorious acts of slaughter across Middle Earth.

After Bombur explained to him that Thorin was probably behind Balin’s actions, Bilbo felt a little bad for the dwarf. But since he had also paid the price during those days, he didn’t let it affect him too much.

His challenge now was to undo it and not have the dwarf angry at him or shocked and exasperated again. Valar knew Bilbo needn’t Balin making a scandal about his blindness for the whole company to hear. There was only so much damage control a wizard could do. Besides, if Bilbo wasn’t careful, more than his blindness would be discovered. Balin was a politician and Bilbo knew Thorin would not trust any dwarf to look out for him. Balin was intelligent and shrewd. He definitely knew that Bilbo had done something to him – usually his tricks worked without limitations, with the exceptions of the person’s own awareness – which in Balin’s case was a lot. So he knew there was something wrong, the way he acted indicated that. But he couldn’t know what was wrong. And Bilbo didn’t intend to let him figure it out either.

He took his stick, drew a deep breath and went to them.

“Good evening, Master Balin,” Bilbo said, surprising their group. “Master Dwalin, Master Thorin.” He said with a small bowl.

They didn’t answer but Bilbo noticed their scents turning surprised and then weariness.

“I was wondering if I could have a private conversation with Master Balin for a few moments if you’re not busy.”

“Of course.” Thorin said and Bilbo could almost see the hard glance he must’ve thrown the dwarf. Did they not know how to be discreet? He was blind and could see it!

They walked in silence and Bilbo guided them not too far from the camp to not raise more suspicion than what they had already, but he was careful to choose a separated location to avoid prying ears.

Balin seemed expectant and not a bit inclined to break the tension between them. 

Bilbo slowly used the environment to his favor. The darkness mixed with his mist gradually and he let his magic work for him.

“I wanted to apologize, Master Balin, for our disagreement at the pub.” He started, having learned that dwarves preferred things without flourishing. Bilbo could smell Balin’s scent becoming confused. Good, that meant it was working. He paused to gauge his reaction.

“I’m not sure what was exactly the nature of our disagreement, Master Baggins,” Balin said, fishing for answers.

Bilbo gave it to him, intensifying the mist around them to support his apologetic voice.

“I know you were upset about learning of my disability,” he said, letting the calmness influence his voice, “but I’m sure, Master Balin” he continued firmly, “that in these last few days, I have more than proved myself as a competent member of the company. And that not only I can take care of myself but also to assume responsibilities.”

Balin’s scent was full of doubts and questions. He still didn’t know what was the disability and he was unsure if Bilbo’s words were truthful.

Bilbo wanted to leave him like this but once was enough to prove that it was a mistake. So he patiently waited and lifted gradually his mist of Balin. A sudden change would not serve him well. In due time, the dwarf would remember their conversation at the pub. But Bilbo would make sure that he also triggered a calm sensation with that memory so that he wouldn’t see reasons to make a spectacle of it in front of Thorin later.

“I sincerely hope, Master Balin, that we could put this behind us.”

“I…”

“Yes?” Bilbo said. “You must know that I regret my manners on that day, Master Balin. I apologize.”

One of the most inconvenient things in voices that shaped thoughts was the constant need to repeat the name of those whom it was directed towards, in Bilbo’s opinion. Finally, after waiting, the dwarf’s scent became clear again and the hobbit could only hope it had worked.

“It’s still a little confusing for me, Master Baggins,” Balin told him. “But I feel that you are being sincere in your apologies. I accept them. And please, accept mine too. I know from experience that a disagreement can only exist if both parts exchange a few unpleasant words.”

Well, if that wasn’t better than what Bilbo expected.

“Apologies accepted.” He smiled. “I hope we can put it to rest.”

“I do hope it too.”

With that, they returned to the camp. Bilbo returned to his own bag and started unpacking his bedroll. He listened attentively to Balin. 

"What did the halfling say, Balin?" Thorin inquired. 

Bilbo was half of nothing! In all those years on the skin of a hobbit taught him that they could be shorter than most but they were half of nothing. How that word offended Bilbo. But he didn't dwell on it, he had a conversation to listen to.

"He apologized for his actions and manners at the pub." Balin said, still processing the information. Bilbo suspected this time he sounded more sure of the events if Thorin's scent was of any indicative.

"Did he say anything else?" 

"No, only that he was capable of taking care of himself even with his disability."

"Disability?" Dwalin asked. "What disability?"

"I don't recall and he didn't say." Balin said. "But from what we observed these last few days, he seemed to turn out well on his own."

Thorin huffed. 

"He's not a warrior Thorin. You can't expect that to change." Balin continued. "And as for his disability, whatever that may be, he wouldn't be the first member of this company with a disadvantage. Or must I remember you of Bifur?"

Both Thorin and Dwalin looked sheepish at that comment. Bifur had an axe in his head and only talked in khuzdul and gestures, but he was a skilled warrior among them - even if a retired one that prefered to work taking care of the king’s dogs. 

"I still don't like him." Dwalin declared after a pause. 

"You don't have to like him. He's part of the company, for better or for worse." Thorin reminded him grumply. Then he turned to Balin and added, "If you remember anything else, I want to know."

"Of course."

With that, they turned their talk to other matters. 

Bilbo was satisfied with the outcome. He would release Balin's memory in bits during the following nights in the shape of dreams, until one day the dwarf would remember everything but the process would have been so long and continuous that he would not care. Like a memory you have but don't know about it until you talk specifics that remind you of it. 

Now that one problem was solved, Bilbo could finally call it a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious about what you thought of Bilbo's pov hehe
> 
> Did I leave you with more questions or some of your doubts were answered?


	4. Part III - Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would be careful if I were you, little brother.” Nori said. Dori agreed.
> 
> “What -” Ori said, “Why?”
> 
> Nori said smugly. “I only warn you. Are you interested in the hobbit?”
> 
> “What? No!” Ori exclaimed. “I barely know him!”
> 
> “Good.” Nori said. “It would be terrible to lose a brother because of some misplaced ideas.”
> 
> Ori was lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was fired yesterday - and now I'll work for 30 days for them (as the law requires) and then I'll be without a job for good. It was a horrible feeling but...I figured if I'm sad, why not to make my readers happy?
> 
> So, here it is because I have no self control and I love you all (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Ori was amazed by Rivendell. It felt like entering a world where time didn’t exist, a magical place hidden from the harsh wild outside its borders. The young dwarf never imagined that one day he would be here and well received by the elves. While he knew that the company would not linger because of Thorin’s mistrust in lord Elrond, Ori was determined to enjoy this opportunity as much as he could. 

The others were incredibly rude and suspicious of everyone. The wizard looked exasperated at their company. Lord Elrond was more amused than offended by their behaviour, as if he was dealing with a bunch of immature children that needed patience and not harsh replies. Ori imagined it had to do with the elves’ age. Living forever would change your perspective from others and everybody would be like children to you. And probably because, as he suspected, they did not receive many visitors - so rude dwarves, even with bad manners, would be a font of entertainment rather than a bother.

It did not matter to Ori, because he was pleased to be there and he hoped to be given the permission to explore the place, especially the library. Contrary to other dwarves, he secretly liked the elvish culture, which included their language, stories and books. When a dwarfling, he found a few books about elves and started to read them, impressed with their tales of heroes of the past ages. He started to look for more literature but found only it in sindarin. A great many hours were spent trying to learn the language and what a joy it was for him to be finally able to access the contents inside. 

It became his secret since others wouldn’t understand and even oppose. It even helped him when he wanted to write secrets in his journal, he hid them from his brothers by writing in sindain. In this quest, he started a book to retell later their adventures. He wrote in khuzdul the most parts and illustrated but he left his personal notes - usually not very flattering versions of the incidents in sindarin. It was all a well kept secret. Only his brothers knew about his knowledge of elvish language and drawings, and Ori intended to leave it that way for as long as he could - because he knew there was no such a thing as privacy on the road.

The architecture was breathtaking, everything seemed in perfectly balance with the natural environment. There were beautiful waterfalls and the air around them was humid with mist from it, making the vision similar to a dream from a fairytale. Ori never wanted to leave this place, he had half a mind to hide there and forgot Erebor. What was cold rocks carved inside a mountain crumbling from a dragon when he could have this sensation of peace and warmth? 

Ori had to wait to explore, though. They had been offered rooms to wash and rest, and after dined with their hosts. He was excited to look for the library but after taking a relaxing bath and getting rid of the filth from their early encounters with orcs and wargs, Ori found that his energy for the day had vanished. He ate and barely noticed things around him, sure that the wizard would make apologies for their behavior. He was a little disappointed with the lack of meat though, but he could appreciate the food without murmurs of complaints as the others had done. He finished quickly and retreated for bed. The dwarf did not notice when his brothers joined him in their shared bedroom because sleep had claimed him in the moment he laid his head on the soft pillow.

Next morning came bright and soon but Ori felt well rested and ready to start his day. The breakfast, waiting for them in their rooms, was delicious but he missed ham and bacon in it - still didn’t complain as his brothers did, he was raised better than that.

When he finished, Ori stepped away from his room and walked on the corridors looking for an elf to ask about the library and if he could go there. He was about to turn left when Thorin called him, walking fast with a serious look on his face. Ori did not like what that look could mean.

“Nori tells me that you know Elvish. Is that true?” He inquired without greetings.

“I think so,” Ori said unsure. When Thorin raised an eyebrow at him, he elaborated. “I mean, I can read it but not speak, though.”

Thorin said the next part in a voice so low that Ori had to lean close to hear him.

“You will be my ears here then. Pay attention to what those tree-eaters say and report if you listen to anything suspicious. Can you do that?” 

“I -, yes, I can do that,” he answered stuttering. 

Thorin nodded satisfied, and after a moment of analysing him, as if looking for any conspiracies, he left with the same speed he came, leaving a dumbspoken Ori behind.  


Ori took a moment to compose himself and then went back to his search for the library. He did not have to ask for directions since he found it soon enough. It appeared to be empty and full of ancient books that seemed to be begging for him to be read. When Ori started looking at the shelves close to the windows, he noticed another occupant - who seemed hidden by a pile of books and perfectly content to be there.

The hobbit looked engrossed with his book. Ori did not want to disturb him, as his brothers used to do with him and he hated it - always scared him when someone pulled him from hours of continued reading, he was left with a sensation of having been ripped apart from another world only to be thrown at reality. He turned to the shelves instead, looking for something to capture his interest and read.

Ori was almost at the opposite end of the room when he heard a sound. He immediately dropped the book he was holding and turned to see what had caused the noise. 

“I’m sorry, Master Ori.” The hobbit said. He dropped to his knees to take the fallen book. “I cleared my throat a few times but I guess you were a little concentrated.”

Master Baggins looked apologetic. 

“It’s alright,” Ori said. “I tend to get like this many times. My brother always enjoys scaring me back to reality.” He tensed, not sure why he had divulged this information to Master Baggins. Dwarves in general weren’t scholars and more than once Ori had regretted saying things like this. They didn’t comprehend the feeling of being totally captivated by books and not jewels. 

But instead of a negative reaction, the hobbit smiled, an understanding expression forming on his features. 

“I know what you mean,” he told him, “I feel like I could spend an entire day reading if the story is entertaining and the place is right.”

Ori smiled back, a small grin appearing. He didn’t need to pretend around Master Baggins then. 

“What are you reading about, Master Baggins?” He decided to ask, curious.

“Please, call me Bilbo. And I’m reading about Ancalagon the Black,” he told him. “He was an enormous dragon that was slayed by Eärendil. Have you ever heard the tale?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t know much about dragons. Is it epic?”

“Yes, quite so.” Bilbo responded. “Eärendil was a half-elf and he travelled to Valinor to ask for help from Valar himself, to end the war against Morgoth. He received a great blessing but his enemies were bloodthirst and many. Morgoth sent then Ancalagon, a great powerful ancient fire drake dragon to command other dragons to battle. That was the last battle between dragons, elves and men on Middle Earth.” 

Ori was enraptured. Bilbo’s voice had an ancient tone that transported the young dwarf to the fields where the battle had taken place. He forgot even that he was looking for a book in the first place. He had never taken interest in tales of dragons before. He always prefered more realistic battles to read about when he was in the mood. Dragons and other great creatures seemed to much of a children’s story to Ori’s taste, not something tangible, that someone inexperienced like him could live through and be declared the hero of. But, the irony didn’t pass through him unnoticed - there he was in a quest to slay a mythical creature from children’s books.

“Did this really happen?” Ori questioned. It seemed too fantastic to be real.

“Oh yes. It was one of the greatest battles to ever happen. But it’s not known by many since it’s ancient and people tend to forget great tales once they are written in books.”  


The conviction in Bilbo’s voice left no doubt to Ori. And he wanted to know more about it. 

“How does it end, Bilbo?” He asked. Then, he remembered they were still standing in the library, and he had pulled the hobbit from his books. “I’m sorry, Bilbo. You must be wanting to read your books.” 

Bilbo waved a hand at him, not worried. “There’s no need to apologize, Ori. It’s a fascinating story, after all. I can tell you more about it later, if you want.” 

“I would like it very much, please.” He replied. Then, he remembered to ask for a recommendation since Bilbo’s taste appeared to be an excellent one. “Would you mind helping me to find a volume to read, Bilbo?” 

“Yes, sure. What do you usually enjoy reading about?”

“I like reading stories with happy endings about love. Elves seem to have the gift to write about eternal love that makes me want to find one of my own.” He confessed, blushing. “But I enjoy tales about battles too - just not the ones with great creatures.”

Bilbo nodded, thinking. “I think I know one that you might enjoy. Come along.” 

And the hobbit guided him through the shelves, familiar with the place - maybe he had visited Rivendell before? Ori thought to ask him later. They stopped and Bilbo went for the ladder, placing it in the middle of the hall, turned to the shelf on the left, climbed it, and retrieved a book from the top. It was old and a little shabby. 

“Sack of Doriath,” Ori read from the title.

“I won’t spoil it for you but I can guarantee that it’s…” Bilbo said, and words failed him to describe it. “Well, I won’t lie to you. It’s heartbreaking. But it’s also one of the most well written tales of eternal love I’ve ever read about. And from a point of view, it has a happy ending.”

Ori was intrigued by it. Bilbo had the ability, he was learning, to make everything sound appealing. 

“Thank you, Bilbo. Do you mind if I join you for reading?”

“Not at all.”

And together they went to Bilbo’s corner in the library. They settled into a comfortable silence and time flew. Before they knew it, an elf came to summon them for lunch.

\--.--

Lunch was a tense affair. Thorin kept to himself and didn’t pretend to pay attention to the elves, the talk in the company was scarce and limited to requests of passing plates. The dwarves were intent on showing their displeasure of the food - without any signs of meat, the mood was dropping rapidly. The elves were blind to it - or at least very good at pretending it, in Ori’s opinion. Every few minutes, Thorin threw glances at Gandalf, sometimes even growing low from his seat. The wizard ignored him, preferring to talk to lord Elrond at the other end of the table. 

Thorin was on constant alert along with Dwalin who kept a not discrete hand in his axe. He was more on edge, however, because they were talking in sindarin and he couldn’t exactly ask publicly about a translation for Ori. The dwarf was grateful for it, though. He had only ever read in sindarin, and was finding it difficult to keep up with the conversation. 

Suddenly, Bilbo’s voice interrupted their conversation. The hobbit spoke in perfect sindarin, making everyone at the table, except for Gandalf and lord Elrond, to pause. Elrond smiled at the hobbit and replied.

“Im'm sorrui, nin mellon.” He said, with a smile, amused. “The hobbit is right, Mithrandir. We are being impolite to talk in a language our guests can’t comprehend.”

Gandalf held a napkin in his hand and hid his mouth from view but he made a sound suspiciously resembling to laugh, his eyes twinkling. Thorin looked ready to strangle someone, the key word being hobbit in this case. With forced grace, he said, fooling no one that he was aiming for a reprimand.

“I did not know that you could speak elvish, Master Baggins.” 

“Oh, I’ve had the pleasure of learning it when I met Elrond, many years ago.” He smiled at the elf in question, a shared secret between them, and continued, “He was kind to teach me sindarin and quenya with patience.”

“How did you meet, Master Baggins?” One of lord Elrond’s twin sons asked. Ori couldn’t remember which one, though. 

“Call me Bilbo, please Elrohir.” Bilbo said, cherfully. He sobered though, to answer his question, and Ori took notice that he appeared to be choosing his next words carefully. “I met your father under unfortunate circumstances. I had just met Gandalf a few months before and he took me to Rivendell to be tended from my injuries. I don’t have many pleasant memories from the journey and neither, I’m afraid, of my first weeks here. But then, when I was able to move around more freely, and was learning how to deal with my new reality, I had the pleasure to be introduced to my carer, properly.” And he gestured to lord Elrond.

“It was never a burden to take care of you, my friend.” Elrond responded in kind. 

“It must’ve been a long time ago, then.” Elladan commented. “Since we haven’t met you yet.”

Elrohir looked shocked with the realisation. Ori noticed that Gandalf sat straight in his chair and exchanged a look with Elrond.

“How many years do hobbits live, Master Baggins?” Elladan asked.

“Now boys, I’m sure we don’t want to seem rude by asking so many questions to our hobbit.” Lord Elrond intervened, a bit too quickly, Ori realized. 

And now everyone was intrigued by it. 

Thankfully, Elladan looked embarrassed. His sister took upon herself to fix the situation. 

“In any case, you truly speak well, Master Baggins. I imagine you don’t practice speaking our language very much in the Shire, and your pronunciation was perfect.” 

“Thank you.” Bilbo said, pleased. “I try to read out loud at home to not forget it.”

And that was it. They soon changed subjects and the rest of the meal passed more easily. The elves seemed curious about Bilbo and the hobbit was happy to chat with them. Thorin looked more and more red and glared constantly at the hobbit. Ori didn’t know what he wanted to gain with it, though. If he didn’t know any better, he would say Throrin looked jealous. 

Ori was certain that he heard a growl from their leader when Elrohir leaned close to the hobbit and asked if he liked to hear and recite tales. 

“I love to.” Bilbo simply responded.

“That’s most fortunate, then.” The elf said, animated. “We were thinking about retelling some tonight. Would you like to participate?”

“You don’t need to tell a tale if you don’t want to.” Elladan quickly added. “It would be a pleasure to have your company in any way.”

Bilbo laughed.

Ori did not think before he interrupted the conversation.

“Bilbo, you could retell the tale about that battle you said to me earlier.” In Ori’s defense, Bilbo’s way of telling the story at the library had been fascinating.

The hobbit turned to him, a mysterious glint in his eyes. 

“Can the dwarves come too?” He asked.

“Of course!” Elrohir said. “My, my, our manners today are definitely lacking.”

His brother laughed.

“In that case, I’ll retell that story tonight Ori. You should come then.” 

Ori smiled. Tonight couldn’t arrive sooner. 

\--.--

A few of the dwarves were together in the gardens when Glóin commented, gruntly.

“Did anyone know that he is a friend of the elves?”

“I did.” Bombur replied. Everyone looked at him. He let his response linger a moment before elaborating. “He talked a lot about elvish dishes. I imagined he had already been here before.”

“Why did he never say anything to us?” Kíli looked offended. “If I knew he liked to tell stories, our time at the fire camp would've been more entertaining.”

Bombur didn’t reply, unwilling to share more about the hobbit. Ori remained quiet too. He had just started to know Bilbo and wouldn’t presume anything about him. He decided to take a walk around the place, and hopefully even make a drawing from the view. He definitely wanted to record his time here and his memory with time would fade, with a drawing he could have the details forever engraved to remember, even aware that his ability wouldn’t make it justice, he was committed to it. 

When he returned to his room, he found his brothers there. As routine, they were bickering. They went quiet when he entered. He signed. No matter how old he got, they would always treat him as a dwarfling and try to protect him from things. Or, in this case, hide their fights.

“Where have you been?” Dori asked. His eyes checking him for any injuries or signs of bad things.

“I was at the library with Bilbo, then at the gardens.”

“You spend the day with him?” Nori quirked an eyebrow. 

“Yes.” Ori said, slowly. “Why? Is there a problem with it? He was already there when I arrived.”

“I would be careful if I were you, little brother.” Nori said. Dori agreed.

“What -” Ori said, “Why?”

“Were you spying for our dear leader?” Nori ignored his question.

“I - No! Of course not.” He sputtered. “If you want to know, I asked Bilbo about what he was reading and then he recommended a book to me. He was nice and we talked about tales and reading. What is your interest in him?”

“Mine? None, but I’m not the right person for you to be asking about that, little brother.” Nori said smugly. “I only warn you. Are you interested in the hobbit?”

“What? No!” Ori exclaimed. “I barely know him!”

“Good.” Nori said. “It would be terrible to lose a brother because of some misplaced ideas.”

Ori was lost.

“Our leader has an interesting way of showing affection, I think.” Dori explained.

“What- Thorin likes Bilbo?” Ori thought the looks were just angry scowls. Sure, he could be described as jealous too but that would be if he had shown any previous interest - which he hadn’t, at least from what Ori could see it had been the opposite.

Dori nodded. 

“By Mahal, that’s why he was glaring at him at lunch.” Ori concluded. “But if he is showing interest like this how is he when angry at someone?”

“You don’t want to know it.” Nori answered darkly. “But worry not, little brother. I’ll make sure to tell you if you’re being an asshole when courting someone.”

Dori huffed while Ori made a face.

“You don’t get the right to advise Ori, you idiot.” 

“What? Why?” Ori was lost again. “What happened?”

His brothers exchanged a silent glare. They were trying to hide the problem from him, again. This time, Ori wouldn’t be taking excuses. He was old enough and not a dwarfling to be kept apart from important matters. The dwarf crossed his arms and looked at them seriously. He even raised an eyebrow but that probably didn’t help his case - but he would take what he could.

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Nori answered, “Dwalin is an idiotic bastard.”

“Are you going to tell it right or do you prefer that I do it?” Dori warned.

Nori huffed, annoyed. 

“He accused me of stealing his knife when I was just meddling my own business. I told him I hadn’t - because I have plenty of knives of my own and didn’t need his. He insisted on it and I told him, quite clearly, ‘should I tell you where to look for it?’. And it pissed him off. He called me a bastard and threatened to throw his axe at me. I was tempted to let him try when our dear brother here,” he gesticulated to Dori, “dragged me away.”

Dori looked tired and exasperated.

“Nori.” He said, a pleading tone in his voice. “You know that you can’t keep fighting him like this.”

“What? Since when do you fight with Dwalin?” Ori said, surprised.

“This has been going on for years.” Dori answered.

“Bastard’s caught me stealing once and has been nagging me ever since.”

“And that’s why you have to stop bickering with him. You don’t help your case with that attitude.” Dori pointed to him.

“I don’t have to do anything.” Nori replied angry. “Not my fault he’s an idiot and somebody has to point it out to him.”

“You can think whatever you want but don’t change the fact that he’s still Thorin’s best friend. If it ever came down to the word of you two, who do you think Thorin would choose?”

Nori ignored him after that. Dori gave up. Ori felt tired from it. He decided to read his book to distract him until dinner. When he emerged from his room, he was tempted to ask if Bilbo or anyone else had space in their rooms for one more dwarf - he could even sleep on the floor. His brothers' endless discussions and glances ruined whatever peaceful mode Ori had to read. He couldn't concentrate and his shoulders were tense. 

\--.--

He ate tiredly and if he sat more close to the elves and Bilbo than to his brothers, well that was no one’s business. Ori wasn’t sure anymore about the privileges of being older were what he expected. This certainly wasn’t what he had in mind when he said he wanted to be included in important matters of their family. If this was what they considered important to be discussing for endless hours without reaching an accord, Ori wanted to be treated like a dwarfling again. 

But Bilbo cheered him up by including him in his conversation with the twin sons of lord Elrond. Those boys had mischief in their eyes and by the looks of it, so did the hobbit. Ori wished he had spent the afternoon with them instead. He was sure he would’ve enjoyed it more.

They finished and Elrohir with Elladan guided them towards the poetry hall. It was full of elves seated around on various chairs and stools - some, like the twins, were even on the ground, like excited children waiting for a story before bed. Bilbo went to the center of the room, and if Ori’s guesses were correct, the acoustic would be great. That and Bilbo’s hypnotic voice would be enough to enchant his entire audience. 

Ori sat next to Balin and Thorin. They looked ready to mentaly take notes of the hobbit. He didn’t pay much mind to them. Their companions were trying to look inconspicuous but failing miserably at it. Ori almost laughed at Dwalin’s face of repulsion. He grunted the entire way about not wanting to participate in anything ‘elvish’ or spending more time with the ‘tree eaters’.

Their attention was soon directed elsewhere. Bilbo was ready to start his tale.

The room gradually became dusky, the air around then changing. Outside, a storm was clouding the sky.

“Many of you are not old enough to remember ruthless times, and recall the great beings that once lived through it. Though in books, history tends to be shaped by winners and their deeds.” 

“At the first age, Eärendil slayed a creature and put an end to a bloodless battle that had been going for years. He was heroic and brave, alone traveling to obtain a god’s blessing. He is great among your people, a half-elven, remembered in statues and songs.”

“But he is not the protagonist of our tale tonight.” Bilbo paused darkly. And the room became hot, as in a battlefield.

“Ancalagon was the greatest winged dragon of all. He was as tall as a mountain, his fire a wrath that made men and elves crumble in fear, for Morgoth himself had given life to him. Dark as an abyss, Ancalagon was a thunder in heavens at night and his power alone could make Sauron himself hide away in Mordor. He was given authority by his master to feed from his enemies and burn what his heart desired. His destruction was endless when Valar abandoned his kin, hiding in Valinor, leaving them to die at the war.”

A thunder echoed loudly and Ori shuddered - he was not the only one. The room was enraptured and the atmosphere was suffocating, hopeless.

“In a desperate attempt to fight back, men and elves united one last time with their broken spirits and blind swords. Women and children were forced to arm themselves and march alongside. For there was word, carried by winds, that a dragon's belly was soft and under the right scale, only one stroke of sword or arrow could put end to evil itself. They marched, letting hope flourish in their hearts, mending their scars for peace had long been forgotten. Elves and men forgot on that day why Morgoth was to be feared. They were foolish to let hope open way to their plans."

"That day, the heavens burned red with Ancalagon's laugh of fire. His master gave him an army to command. An army like no other ever formed - a fleet of fire drakes."

The room was still. Ori felt like he was there, living the dreadful last day of the war. 

"The men and elves heard thunderstorms and lightning from above, but they couldn't see clearly, only blurry shapes of enormous creatures surrounding their armies. Flames descended from heavens and screams were heard from all of those in Middle Earth. The men perished, and the elves fought bravely, but the dragons' power was too great to defeat. When no help came, Ancalagon descended with his kin, a feast before him ready to be devoured." 

Bilbo paused.

"And that was their undoing."

"Eärendil came, in his blessed ship with allies, the Eagles of Manwë. They fought through the night, until the half-elven in a desperate attempt of ending it, threw an arrow, the last one he had, forged on Valinor and bathed in light of stars. It killed Ancalagon. His fall upon Thangorodrim destroyed the mountains there. The fleet of fire drakes was slaughtered, one by one. Some escaped and fled north, and Morgoth was defeated. That was the end of Ancalagon the Black and his days of glory. But there was no feast that night for the victorious, neither songs of deeds or hymns honoring the dead. Because there were no tears left in those who had no one to return home to. And the soil became tainted, the smell putrid and nothing ever grew there again as a reminder of the bloodshed for an eternity."

\--.--

Later, Ori was still feeling wide awake. He laid in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about the story Bilbo had told in the poetry hall. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind would conjure images of the terrible last day of war. It was so real and suffocating that the young dwarf felt like he was experiencing memories instead of made up products of his impressionable imagination.

Seeing no point in trying to remain in bed any longer, he decided to wander and see Rivendell at night, maybe find a good spot to see the sunrise. He tiptoed quietly and closed the door behind him. Ori wondered if anyone else was left shaken by Bilbo’s way of telling stories. Even the environment seemed to cooperate to create a perfect climate. 

He was walking without direction when he heard voices from one of the balconies. Ori wasn’t one for meddling in another’s business but his curiosity was picked. He approached lightly, avoiding noises of his presence. They were talking in low voices but he leaned close and sharpened his ears to understand the sindain spoken. 

“You tell incredible stories, my friend,” Lord Elrond said. 

“When you live among a lot of curious children, you pick a perk or two.” Bilbo replied. 

“I didn’t know you knew of Ancalagon the Dark.” A third voice said. Gandalf.

“Well, all evil was summoned to answer Morgoth’s call.” 

Gandalf made a noise. 

“I’m curious,” Lord Elrond said, “why did you decide to tell this story? I thought you didn’t like to remember the days of the past.”

Bilbo took his time in answering. 

“I guess.” He said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about dragons lately. My life- I’ve been hiding for too long, as Gandalf said. Living as a hobbit is not enough to prove that I’ve changed. And since I was dragged by a certain wizard,” he pointed to Gandalf, “to kill one, I thought to revisit some tips from the past in the library. Ori was there and he asked about what I was reading, the rest you know.”

Lord Elrond nodded. 

“Reading you said?” He asked after a moment.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I?” Bilbo said, somewhat apologetically. “I can’t read, obviously, as you know. But after a few years getting used to this form, I discovered a few tricks.”

The wizard appeared in Ori’s field of vision. He seemed interested as well.

“The secret is in having possession of a hoard.” The hobbit continued. “I know naturally everything that’s inside of it, that includes books and their contents. I don’t read, but I can feel it, as if spoken to me. That’s how I learn new languages and am able to speak them, even without having heard the pronunciation.”

“That’s an incredible ability, Bilbo.” Gandalf commented as he smoked his pipe.

“And to think that I spend many months teaching you sindarin and quenya.” Lord Elrond commented, feigning offense.

“I didn’t know at the time, you can’t fault me for it.” Bilbo replied. 

Ori must’ve made a sound because the hobbit suddenly turned his direction. 

“What is it, Bilbo?” The wizard asked.

“Nothing, _I hope_.” He told him, but the last part Ori could tell that it was directed to him - how Bilbo had noticed him there he didn’t know.

He quickly returned from where he came, not wanting to get caught, again. Ori decided to return to his room when he was stopped.

“You know, I really _do hope_ it was nothing, Ori.” Bilbo said, suddenly by his side, scaring the Mahal out of him.

“Bilbo!” Ori said, “I- I’m sorry.” 

“I’m starting to think that this company likes to intrude in private conversations.” He said, an Ori couldn’t decide if his tone was more amused or dangerous.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, “I was just looking for a spot to see the sunrise.”

“It’s a little too early for sunrise, don’t you think?” Bilbo said, unconvinced.

“I-” Ori stuttered. “I couldn’t sleep. Not after your story.” He admitted. “Every time I closed my eyes, my mind created images of the battle. So I decided to go for a walk.” 

Bilbo's shoulders dropped a little with his admission.

“I’m sorry, Ori.” He said. 

Ori looked at the floor. 

“I can’t let you tell any of the others about what you’ve heard, though.” Bilbo continued. “It would complicate things a lot for me.” 

“I won’t say a word, Bilbo. I promise.”

“I know you will not want to, Ori.” He said sadly. “But I can’t trust that circumstances won’t make you. You’ll have to forgive me, but I have to ensure this will remain between only you and me.” 

Ori looked at him, ready to ask what he had meant about it but the hobbit had extended his hand. He touched Ori’s forehead and the dwarf knew no more. The last thing he remembered hearing was the hobbit murmuring an apology to him.

“I’m sorry, my friend.”

And he woke up in his bed the next day.

He came to slowly, the sunlight disturbing his peaceful sleep. His brothers were nowhere to be seen, and he deduced he had overslept. He felt normal, but something wasn’t right. He remembered Bilbo touching his forehead but what the hobbit had done to him, Ori did not know. 

He still had his memories from the overheard conversation. But how he managed to return to his bed was a mystery to him. He had breakfast and decided to inquire the hobbit himself. 

He went to the library, knowing it would be probably where Bilbo would be. 

“Good morning, Ori.” Bilbo said when he stepped inside. “Sleep well?”

Ori had the impression Bilbo knew the answer but he nodded anyway. He approached him, until he was seated beside him, like he had done when they spent the afternoon reading.

“Go on,” Bilbo encouraged. “You can ask.”

“What did you do to me?”

“I made sure you can’t speak about what you’ve heard last night.” Bilbo said. “You will remember but in the presence of others, you won’t be able to speak, the only exception will be with me or if I give you explicit permission to tell someone.”

“How can I know you’re saying the truth?”

“You can test it yourself, if you want. I’m not stopping you.”

Ori pondered for a moment - that statement seemed a double-edged sword. He could be telling the truth or bluffing. Ori would test it later.

“I have more questions.” He said.

“I’ll do my best to answer them.”

“What you were talking about - you gave the impression of having lived those events.” 

“That’s not a question, Ori.” Bilbo said, kindly, but Ori didn’t like the expression on his face.

“Did you fight in that war?”

“Yes.” 

“How?” Ori said. “I thought you said hobbits don't live that much.”

“No, they don’t.” Bilbo said. “But I was not a hobbit, then - and that’s all I will tell you about it, though.”

“Is that why you can do that thing?” 

“What thing?”

“The weather. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Bilbo smiled. “You’re smart, aren’t you? Yes, that was me.”

“You won’t tell me more about it.”

“No, I won’t,” he agreed.

“What about the hoard? You said something about it and reading.”

Ori saw him hesitate. 

“I’m blind, Ori - and obviously, I can’t read.” He started. “I have abilities, though, that allow me to access contents in written form. That’s how I can guide myself through the roads without needing help and how I can tell what each book in this library is about.” 

Ori processed this. 

“I-” 

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.” Bilbo said. “Take your time.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” The dwarf asked, suddenly. “Your abilities, I mean. You could be helping Thorin a lot.”

“I don’t want the attention that comes with it - nor the wariness. You see, how do you think Thorin would react to me? You must’ve seen the glares he sends to me.”

“I thought you said you were blind.” 

“I am, but I’m not an idiot. And I have my methods of seeing without my eyes. Thorin is already suspicious of me, can you imagine if he thought I was some kind of wizard?”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean.” Although privately, Ori knew that while Thorin may be suspicious of the hobbit, he was also interested in him for another entirely different reason, but if Bilbo hadn’t noticed it, it was not Ori’s place to tell him - dwarves were incredibly private about these matters and interfering was not seen as a good thing, even if to help a friend. 

Bilbo continued when he didn’t offer more.

“That’s why I have to be careful and you won’t be allowed to speak of it - at least for now.” He said, finishing the conversation. “Now, what are you thinking about the Sack of Doriath? Have you finished it?”

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im'm sorrui, nin mellon - I’m sorry, my friend.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this chapter ◕ ◡ ◕


	5. Part IV - Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin looked uncomfortable. Bilbo looked uncomfortable. If that wasn’t amusing, Bofur didn’t know what could be then. Bilbo held his stick, and walked to the dwarf slowly. He stopped close to him, accessing. He extended a hand slowly.
> 
> “May I touch you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which secrets are revealed - but not all of them because I quite enjoy the slow process of discovering bits of pieces of Master Baggins....

Arriving at Beorn’s house had been an oasis in the middle of a tide of bad unfortunate events. They had been attacked by goblins in the mountains after leaving Rivendell. Then the wargs came along with the orcs and the mood from the company had been void of positive thinking for the time being. With Thorin gravely wounded, and the rest of them with various injuries, they had travelled slowly, never really having the opportunity to rest. Bofur and the rest of them were quiet about it, but they were all worried about their leader. Óin had mended what he could and cleaned the wounds but Thorin still moved stiffly and he was clearly in pain. 

The possibility of having a place to rest after all this left them overjoyed. No more turns to take watch and having to hunt for food, to be able to sleep in real beds and relax a little was a comfort and put all of them in a pleasant mood - neither complained about Gandalf’s ridiculous scheme to approach Beorn’s house in pairs, as they had done with the hobbit, who remained oblivious to the smirks around him. 

After the initial mistrust, Beorn proved to be a generous host. They were fed and provided clean water to clean themselves. When they were comfortable enough, Óin started to tend their injuries, having now access to supplies and time to do so. Bofur, reclined by the fire with some, enjoyed the moment of peace and the tortured faces Dwalin made while in their healer’s hand.

Óin could be a talented healer but his methods were questionable, to say at least. The young princes didn’t look eager to be in his hands again - with Óin being their family’s personal healer, he took care of the boys since before birth and being the adventurous dwarflings they were, Bofur could only imagine how many times they had suffered through his hands.

Bofur looked around and saw the hobbit knitting his brows together, as if pondering something. Now that Bofur paid attention, the hobbit appeared to be the only one of them unscarred and, well, healthy - not tired or shaken. The only sign he had been attacked was on his ragged clothes, otherwise, he appeared the same as the day they had met him at the Shire.

Bilbo appeared to have come to a decision though. He got up, took his stick and went to Beorn. He asked for a bowl of clean water and some soap. He put the items on the table and sat on the chair again.

“Ori, come here.” Bofur noticed that others weren’t paying attention. Except for their leader, of course. Thorin sat on the corner and narrowed his eyes at the hobbit. That was an interesting reaction, the dwarf noted, but he wouldn’t dwell on it.

Ori approached him, confused.

“Do you need anything, Bilbo?” He said. 

“No, no.” Bilbo said. “Take off your gloves and let me look at your hands. You haven’t been seen by Óin yet, have you?”

The dwarf didn’t hesitate, stipping off his gloves, offering them to the hobbit for inspection.

“You got scraped in the trees, right?” Bilbo asked while cleaning the cuts and washing the dwarf’s hands. “This will hurt a little but don’t worry, you’ll be good as new after I finish.”

Bilbo touched the cuts and Ori let a sound of pain escape his lips. At this point, they had drawn attention from the others who were on line waiting for Óin to treat them. The hobbit’s face had a look of concentration and his expression was serious. It only lasted a moment - Bilbo letting go of Ori.

“What do you think?” He asked. 

Ori inspected his hands. Bofur noticed they were clean, without any trace of cuts whatsoever. 

“Thank you, Bilbo.” He said in awe. 

The hobbit smiled. “No problem.” Then, added, “Is there anyone else who would like to speed the healing process a little?”

Fíli and Kíli were at his side in an instant. 

“Can you heal us, Bilbo?” 

“Well, I can certainly try to.” He answered. “Are your hands scraped too?”

“Yes. I have a few burns and Kíli has a few cuts in his face.” Fíli said for both of them.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Show me your hands, Fíli.” The prince removed his gloves and Bilbo started cleaning them. “It will hurt a little but it shouldn’t take long.”

He held the dwarf’s hands and after a few moments, they were completely healed. Kíli was next. Bilbo took a handkerchief and used it to clean the prince’s face. 

“Hold your hair out of your face.” He placed his hands on Kíli’s face and Bofur watched the magic happen. The cuts, red and a little swollen, minimized and the skin knitted itself back together in seconds, the skin new and even younger than before. Kili’s hands received the same treatment.

“We didn’t know you were a healer.” Fíli said in awe after Bilbo finished with his brother.

“I’m no healer. I just happen to know a trick or two.” 

“How did you do it?” Bofur finally asked for everyone - they weren’t even pretending to be paying attention elsewhere.

The hobbit looked embarrassed. “You remember I said I stayed for a time in Rivendell? Well, I learned a little with Elrond about healing among other things.”

“It’s incredible.” Kíli said. “I feel full of energy.” 

“Ah,” Bilbo said apologetic, “I may have exaggerated a little with you, Kíli. And maybe messed with your mind, healing and all, and restored your energy without meaning to.”

“You can do that?” Ori asked from where he was, interested in them. He had his book and looked ready to write all the details about it.

“Well, I-” Bilbo stuttered. “Yes, if I want to, I can.”

The entire company looked at him with wide eyes. Even Óin was impressed.

“Why didn’t you say so?” The healer asked.

“It didn’t come up before,” he answered. “And I need to focus to do it properly or I can mess things up - for good or bad. I could make wounds worse if I don’t concentrate. We didn’t have a moment to stop until now, though.”

Óin nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

“Well,” Bilbo continued, “does anyone else want my help?” 

They all looked expectant at the hobbit. Óin’s methods were really savage and by the looks of everyone, they preferred to try their luck with the hobbit. 

Bilbo sighed, amused. “Who’s next then?”

The wizard huffed, having been watching the whole scene with mirth in his eyes. He let a last smoke ring in the air, got up and disappeared. Beorn was observing them, amused. If he thought they were a travelling circus before, now he would be sure.

Bilbo took his time with them. Even Óin came to him. They talked a little about medicine and plants and herbs that could be of help. The healer seemed impressed with the hobbit’s knowledge - it wasn’t surprising if the lord Elrond had taught him. The dwarves could dislike elves but everyone knew that they were the best healers, the lord of Rivendell being the greatest of all. Then Óin made a comment that surprised them.

“Do you think you could heal Thorin, Master Baggins?”

The entire company went silent. Óin was the official healer since Thorin’s grandfather ruled Erebor. No one else was allowed to treat the royal family’s injuries. To be asked such a thing was no minor request. The official role of healer wasn’t obtained easily and generally it was passed from fathers to sons. Óin could ask Bilbo but Thorin could still reject it - even consider Óin’s suggestion an audacity and dismiss him from his post.

The hobbit looked apprehensive and turned to the direction of said dwarf. “I can try.” 

Thorin looked uncomfortable. Bilbo looked uncomfortable. If that wasn’t amusing, Bofur didn’t know what could be then. Bilbo held his stick, and walked to the dwarf slowly. He stopped close to him, accessing. He extended a hand slowly.

“May I touch you?” 

Thorin looked ready to murder Óin but the healer ignored the glare, used to their leader’s antiques. The king exchanged a look with Dwalin, and the dwarf looked prepared to interfere if Thorin needed it. 

“Go ahead, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo touched his forehead and closed his eyes. The silence was unnerving. No one dared to breath. Thorin hissed and they could hear the sounds of broken bones cracking, coming together once again. His face was red and he looked exhausted but his appearance took a healthy color. The white hair locks slowly returned to their black color when Bilbo removed his hand from Thorin’s forehead. 

The hobbit took a step back and the dwarf got up. They were shocked. He looked young. Too young - almost as Fíli’s age. 

“Well, I guess from the silence that I exaggerated.” Bilbo said tentatively.

“Uncle, I didn’t know you were so different without frowning lines in your face.” Kíli tried joking.

\--.--

The next morning found them refreshed and full of energy - courtesy of Bilbo. The dwarves sat down to take stock of all things they had lost in the goblin caves and the wargs’ attack. It wasn’t good - most of their luggage and food had been taken, as well as spare clothes, extra weapons, and even their instruments. They literally had only the clothes on their bodies, and four backpacks that a few of them had managed to take in their haste. Ori looked content with having his book and drawing supplies intact along with Bombur who had managed to save a few cooking herbs, and pans. 

The only one who had remained with everything was their burglar. The hobbit had managed to not only escape without a scratch but he also did not lose anything along the way. But nobody commented on it - most of them still feeling grateful for the healing of yesterday. 

Their mood didn’t get any better when they noticed the wizard still hadn’t shown his face yet - reminding them of his oncoming departure. Thorin and Balin hadn’t been able to convince Gandalf to stay with them - his mind was set on leaving and they would be left for themselves to slay the dragon. At least they had two healers now, Bofur thought - not that against a dragon it would make any difference but he had to find something positive, right?

Talking about their burglar, the hobbit had left them after breakfast, not willing to put up with their complaints. Bofur decided to go outside and look for him. He didn’t need to search though, Bilbo hadn’t gone far. He was sitting by the stream that ran through the property behind Beorn’s house, washing his clothes. Bofur walked closer and sat down next to him, drawing out his pipe.

Bilbo was focused on his task. Cleaning goblin dirt was a nasty business. When he finally finished, he still looked discontent with the results. He laid his clothes on the grass to dry and sat next to Bofur. 

“I don’t suppose we will arrange more presentable clothes to use during this quest.” His tone was resigned. “Shame that I lost my buttons, though. I liked them. I think all my clothes are like this - without buttons, torned up and ragged. I must look hardly respectable.”

“Did you really like those buttons?” Bofur asked, smiling.

Bilbo looked ahead at nothing in particular. His hands seemed to be antsy.

“Yes. They had drawings on them. Engraved with my favorite type of flower on them, Aconitum. Are you familiar with that flower, Bofur?”

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“It has downward-curved periwinkle blue petals. It’s a beautiful but deadly plant. Just a few drops from the plant's roots can end in death.” Bilbo said. “I like the idea that such a delicate thing, as a plant, can cause incredible damage. There is power in small things.” 

Bofur thought about it. He wouldn’t imagine that a gentle creature like a hobbit could appreciate deadly things, even natural ones, but their burglar was proving to be more than what their eyes could judge. He would speak with Ori later, see if the dwarf still had his sewing kit, and ask him to repair the tears in the hobbit’s clothes. For now, though, he could do one thing for the hobbit - he just needed more details.

“How big were the buttons?” And Bilbo started describing them in the most detailed manner, animated to be talking about something of his interest. Bofur listened, taking notes for later. He wouldn’t tell the hobbit, wanting it to be a surprise.

They sat there unaware of the time. The sun was high in the sky, bathing them in warmth. Bees were buzzing and birds were singing, the occasional breeze passing through the immense trees in the forest. Bofur was comfortable in the silence along with the hobbit when they were interrupted by Kíli, who was running towards them. 

“Uncle wants to talk to you, Bilbo.”

“He’ll have to come here, Kíli.” The hobbit replied. “I didn’t bring my other clothes with me and I won’t walk around half naked around the house.”

Kíli returned to inform his uncle and Thorin came around soon after. He halted when he saw them sitting together - the hobbit half naked, the two of them close and in a private part of the property. Thorin narrowed his eyes and Bofur understood it was time to leave. 

“I will go ask Ori about the thread and needle, Bilbo.” And he rapidly left the hobbit, giving a nod to Thorin when he passed him. Bofur didn’t want to risk his wrath so instead of listening to their conversation, he entered the house and went straight to Bifur.

His cousin was enthusiastic about his idea and immediately they went outside to look for a piece of wood to carve. Bofur managed to talk to Ori about lending Bilbo a needle and a piece of thread also. Bilbo looked half mad and half disconcerted at their leader when they entered the house later. He sat down with Bofur and Bombur, not raising his eyes from his food, a red blush on his cheeks. 

“Thorin thanked me for healing him,” he told them, quietly. “He said that even if he’ll make sure that no harm comes to me, I need to learn sword fighting to defend myself.  
He said Dwalin and himself will teach me.”

The brothers turned to the tattooed dwarf, who looked like he had been given to eat vegetables, a frown in his thunderous expression.

“He is a patient teacher.” Bombur said. “He taught Fíli and Kíli.”

Bilbo laughed exasperated.

“That means he must have no patience left, then.” He said, humorless. “I’m afraid I’ll have some difficulty in learning, and the chances are that I end up cutting my toes rather than killing orcs.”

“I’m sure Dwalin won’t let that happen.” Bofur said. “There is no pressure in being good at the beginning. And it takes decades to master a sword as some of our company have. Don’t be afraid of trying.”

“We’ll see about that.” Bilbo told him, still unconvinced.

\--.--

It took Bofur and Bifur a few hours to make a nice set of simple buttons. They carved flowers on them, trying to replicate the design Bilbo had told Bofur about - they were quite nice after finishing. At teatime, they gave them to the hobbit. Bilbo was speechless. He took them in hands, feeling the careful drawing reverently of each one beneath his thingers. 

“You made me buttons.” His thumb running over the flower design again, committing it to memory. “This- It means a lot. Thank you.”

And before Bofur knew it, Bilbo reached up and gave him a hug. He could not help but marvel at it - how simple it was to gain the hobbit’s affection. He hugged back. The hobbit turned to Bifur and hugged him as well.

“Thank you, Bifur.” He said.

Bifur grinned back. 

Bilbo gave them a wide smile and went to look for his clothes to attach his new buttons to it. The hobbit didn’t see Thorin’s eyes following him but Bofur did, and he wasn’t happy to be caught in the scrutiny as well. Only Mahal knew what passed in their leader’s head. 

Wanting to get away from Thorin’s stare, Bofur went out to take a walk. He had no destination in mind but he turned up on the corral, looking at the animals. Beorn’s animals were big and friendly. The horses inspected his pockets for apples that he had stored for a snack later. He spent a good time petting them, pushing when their curious noses started to get too close to his braids. 

Bofur liked animals but he never had space to have them - living inside a mountain was an obstacle for it. He had birds when they were kids but after his father’s passing away, his mother never kept any again. His cousin was the opposite, always surrounded by animals - whichever they were. Well, with a job like his, he had to, Bofur thought. He took care of the king’s hunting dogs and always had a stray cat after him looking for food. 

When Bofur wasn’t working, drinking with the lads or annoying his brother, he stayed with Bifur, helping him feed the dogs - it was a relief to be away from the constant darkness from the mineshafts. His cousin didn’t mind the company so he enjoyed his time with him. He left the ponies and horses, taking the long way back to the house. He listened to the buzz of the bees and wished he could keep bees in Erebor once they had taken it back. Maybe he could produce honey and retire - since he would be rich with his share of the treasure.

He turned the corner and saw Bilbo with Ori. They were eagerly talking. Ori had his book opened and the hobbit was running his fingers on the pages. Bilbo seemed to be praising Ori’s work - the young dwarf had a little blush on his cheeks. Curiosity sparkled, Bofur made his way over to them. 

“Your drawings are incredible, Ori.” Bilbo praised. “I wish I knew how to draw like you. Mine’s are always stick figures, I’m afraid.”

Ori smiled and shook his head. 

“You should see Dori’s drawing then. You wouldn’t be able to tell apart the ground from the sky.”

“Oi!” Came a yell from inside of the offended dwarf.

“What else did you write here?” Bilbo asked, fingers on the pages.

"It's not much.” Ori tried to tell, embarrassed.

“Wow, Ori, if that’s not much, I wonder what is.” Bilbo said, surprised. “You made maps, drawings and a lot of notes - all of it in your free time.” 

Bofur took a peek at the book.

“That’s an awful lot of notes, Ori.”

“I like to have all the details written.” He explained. “When we reach Erebor and make it inhabitable again, I want to write a chronicle of our adventure. I will need all the details and I could have forgotten something along the way if I didn’t write it down.” 

“Hey, that’s my drawing here.” Bilbo said, when he turned a page.

“Oh, yes.” Ori said. “I took the liberty to draw the faces of everyone in the company.” 

“Uhm,” Bilbo huffed. “Where’s Gandalf’s?”

“I’ll show you. Here.”

“Ha, you definitely have a sense of humour Ori.” Bofur told him.

“Would you like to have some illustrations of our quest to take home, Bilbo?” Ori asked.

“I would love to, Ori.”

The dwarf jumped, bubbling with excitement. He ran into the house to get his drawing supplies. Bilbo laughed. Bofur chuckled. He drew his pipe out and produced a ring of smoke.

“May I?” He gestured to Ori’s book. He started reading and the hobbit accompanied him, making his own circles of smoke with his pipe. He let out a laugh not long before starting. “Oh, this is priceless. Do you think it’ll make into the final version?”

Bilbo ran a fingertip at the part Bofur spoke about. He laughed. Before he answered, Ori beat him to it. “It depends how much of it Thorin will censor.” 

Bofur continued reading, amused by Ori’s writing style. They were peacefully seated when Bilbo commented.

“I missed this.” 

“Uh?” Bofur said.

“Sunlight.” Bilbo responded to the unmade question. “When we were at the goblin’s cave, I missed the warmth of the sun. It’s funny how you don’t know how important something is until you can’t have it anymore.”

“I thought hobbits lived in their holes.” Bofur commented.

“We do, but we enjoy gardening and talking to our neighbors. Home is to have meals and sleep for the most part.” Bilbo breathed, “I don’t know if I would be able to live inside a mountain like you, dwarves. Maybe in another life...but I don’t think I could, not when I learned to appreciate the sun outside.” 

Bofur didn’t respond. The dwarf had the impression that the last part Bilbo had spoken more to himself than to them.

The hobbit stretched, got up from the bench and walked to the grass. “I missed this too.” He said happily. “There’s nothing more relaxing than walking barefoot on the grass. You should try it too, you know.”

“Maybe another day. I like having protection in my feet.” Bofur responded for them.

“Your loss.”

They stayed there until it was time for supper. Bilbo and Ori talked about some stories they had read and Bofur was content to listen to them. 

\--.--

As they sat down for supper, Bofur noticed the mood was much improved from the morning. The company appeared to have regained the joyful spirits from the beginning of their travels. Even Thorin looked in a better mode than what he had been. 

“Tell us, Master Baggins,” He said, serious. Everyone stopped to pay attention. “You have not told us about what you are. We have been on the roads for three months already but you only said that you’re not a burglar. But apart from it, we know almost nothing about you.” 

There were murmurs of agreement from them. 

“Aye.” Glóin said. “You can speak elvish, cook, tell good stories, and heal others. But we know about it because of the circumstances, you yourself didn’t say anything. Gandalf didn’t divulge anything else when I asked - the wizard’s been pretty mysterious about you.”

“Glóin’s right.” Dori grumbled. “The wizard talks in circles with flowered words but he never answers anything. There’s one thing I’m dying to know, though. How by Mahal did you manage to get past the goblins after we lost you?”

“Oh, that.” Bilbo said sheepish. “I fell down in a crack between the rocks. I was lost because down there, there were many passages and I didn’t know which way to go. I wandered until I heard a voice. It was a creature - he was strange, his skin color was pale and gray, very few hairs on his head, as if dead, he had enormous eyes and was intelligent from what I could tell. I think he was a hobbit.”

“A hobbit?” Kíli asked.

“Yes. He had feet like mine and his way of talking was similar to some of the hobbit farmers I know.”

“But what was a hobbit doing in a goblin cave?” Bofur asked.

“I don’t know.” Bilbo said, at loss like them. “But he also seemed corrupted. Or at least, he had developed some other personality while living like this.”

“How’s that?” Bombur questioned.

“He had two main voices from what I could tell - one voice soft and more friendly and another more harsh, suspicious. My guess is that they were the main parts of his personalities because he acted accordingly when he switched voices - and they had opposite interests.” 

“That’s fascinating.” Ori said. Bilbo nodded and continued.

“I asked him if he could take me outside and he said, ‘we takes you if you plays a game with us first.’” Bilbo said, imitating the creature’s voice. “I played with him a game of riddles, then.” 

And the hobbit described the riddles and his impression of Gollum made them clench their jaws. Bilbo had a gift for telling stories, Bofur had to admit. First in the elves’ place, then here. They were left feeling as if they had seen Gollum themselves after the hobbit finished his story. 

They made him retell it again just to make sense of all. 

“Let me get this straight,” Nori said, assessing Bilbo. “You sneaked away from an army of goblins, fooled Gollum, and found your way out of the mountain in the complete darkness - even when lost in that maze of tunnels.” Bilbo nodded. “That is an impressive feat. I would tip my hat off to you.”

“Here, borrow mine.” Bofur threw his hat at him. Nori made a show of standing up and taking off his hat to Bilbo. The hobbit probably wasn’t aware of the significance of the gesture - being recognized by Nori, whose skills were of mastering stealth and stealing, was no small deal.

“And don't forget Azog, Nori.” Dwalin said, in a rare display of agreement between them. “You have courage, hobbit. I’ll give you that.” The others were looking at him with amazement. Including Thorin. It was clear that the hobbit was full of hidden skills and modest about it.

“Tell us, Master Baggins, are there any other hidden skills you want to share with us?” Thorin asked.

“I-” Bilbo said, unsure. “Not that I can recall right now. I’m not that special.” 

They laughed at Bilbo’s embarrassment. 

“Surely you are, or else why would Gandalf choose you as our companion?” Kíli said. Bilbo ignored him. His face looked conflicted though. He debated with himself and the company waited until he had come to a decision.

“I have one thing I’d like to tell you, though.” He said. “Some of you already know it but I think it would be for the best that you’re all aware - specially Dwalin since he’ll be training me tomorrow.”

They waited, curious to know what it was.

“I am blind.” Bilbo stated.

And that caused a commotion at the table. Bofur noticed that Bombur and Ori remained calm - Bilbo must’ve told them. Balin seemed shaken from a memory and the rest of them were throwing exclamations at the hobbit. Thorin looked troubled with it.

“What do you mean you’re blind?”

“How did you-?” 

And then, when their noise became too loud, Thorin silenced them.

“Silence!” He demanded. And he too looked like he had some questions of his own. “I think Master Baggins should have the right to explain himself before we ask him questions.” And by his tone, everyone knew he would be the first to make them.

“In my defence,” Bilbo said, “people tend to react exactly like you when they know. That’s why I haven’t told you. As you are aware, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and injuries.” He paused, seeing if anyone would contest him. When no one did, he continued. “Honestly, I thought you would realize for yourselves. I mean, I’m always with my stick - except for Rivendell but because I know there. I think I don’t look entirely at your faces when I speak with you and I’m a little lost when riding.”

“And before you ask - yes, you could say I’ve been born blind. I know how to tell you all apart - I know your scents, your way of walking and even the pattern of your breathings at night. I can, as Ori knows, read. It’s an ability of mine - and no, I won’t speak more of it than this. And yes, I’m terrible with swords of any weapons because I’ve never used any in my entire life - but I knew perfectly well where Azog was, since I could feel his movements, I’m just not trained to fight.”

“Oh, and yes - Gandalf knows I’m blind. He chose me anyway - even against my own opinions and since I owed him a debt, I joined you.” He finished. “Any questions?”  
Kíli raised his hand but then dropped it, forgetting that Bilbo wouldn’t see it. 

“I can feel your hand raised, Kíli.” Bilbo said, surprising him.

“Bilbo, if you’re blind, how did you know what Gollum looked like?” And suddenly Bofur wanted to know the answer too - as well as the others.

Bilbo smiled. “I touched him.” He said simply. “When I touch things or people, I see them. Not completely, of course, but the general shape and healthy condition - that’s how I know where to focus when healing.” 

There were murmurs from the dwarves. 

“Then do you know what I look like?” Kíli asked.

“I suppose you are a brunette with dark hair in shoulders’ length, taller than me - but all of the other races are taller than me. This height I would guess,” he used his stick to indicate it, “and from your manners and voice I say you’re the youngest here - which among dwarves must be around seventy or eighty years old. Oh, and almost no beard.”

Kíli didn’t respond, neither did the others. 

“From your silence, I’m guessing I was right.” Bilbo said.

Dori raised his hand next, just to see if the hobbit would notice. He did, turning his head in the dwarf’s direction quickly. At that moment, everybody was starting to become aware of the hobbit - how intuitive he was, and agile. He wasn’t taking guesses at where they were or what was happening around him, he was intrinsically attuned to the members of the company, aware of their movements and the environment around him. 

“Yes, Dori?”

Bofur was a little scared to notice how clever were the hobbit’s movements - if Dwalin was taking notes, he would have a lethal trained hobbit soon enough. He was already light on his feet and he had an advantage - his other senses were much more developed than theirs, he would have no problems in dealing with opponents in a fight. That was, if Dwalin was willing to teach him accordingly. 

“What’s your occupation?” Dori inquired. “Since you’re not a burglar, what’s your profession?”

Bilbo shifted in his seat. “I don’t exactly have one. I’m a gentlehobbit - I inherited enough gold to live comfortably for a long time.”

Bofur wasn’t surprised he hadn’t mentioned it before, seeing the frowns his statement got. It was almost a mockery to them who were living in exile. The hobbit noticed it too, because he added, “That does not mean I don’t occupy myself - I travel, read books on various subjects of my interests - that’s how I know how to tell plants and herbs apart - I learn new languages - that’s probably a good time to add that I know khuzdul.” He said sheepish.

“You know khuzdul? Why didn’t you say so?” Fíli asked.

“Well, because I know it’s your secret language and your kin don’t teach others about it - it would be a disrespect, if I’m correct.” Bilbo shrugged. “So I didn’t mention it. Before you asked, no one taught me, I learned through books. Ancient ones but books all the same.”

“And Gandalf wasn’t making up that you travelled?” Nori said.

“No, I did travel.” Bilbo said. “I know many places out there, it’s just that I think they’re not the same anymore since it’s been a long time I have left the Shire.” He laughed. 

“It’s funny how I used to be respectable before running away with you. I had a reputation, you know? Always on time, perfectly tidally clothes and a routine. Look at me now. I imagine my neighbors would call me like the children already do - Mad Baggins.” 

And the talk turned more relaxed. Bombur had found a barrel of ale and after a few drinks, they were laughing pleasantly. Bilbo sat there looking at ease - for the first time since joining them.

Bofur noticed Thorin was still apprehensive around the hobbit but the dwarf suspected it hadn’t to do with his initial suspicion of Bilbo’s motivations. It was something deeper than that - and after Bilbo’s revelation, Thorin had every reason to be worried. But for the time being, he looked more relaxed than he ever got to be around them.  
The contrast in his demeanor was striking and the company subtly reflected it. Bilbo seemed oblivious of their leader’s stare in him for the rest of the night - or maybe not, since he appeared to be so perceptive, he must’ve known when he was being stared to, just chose to ignore it. 

“Will you tell us a story, Bilbo?” Kíli asked the hobbit half an hour later. He had his puppy dog eyes - Bofur wondered if Bilbo could ‘see’ it. “You told one for the elves, so it would be fair to tell one for us, too.”

Bilbo grinned. “Alright. What kind of story would you like to hear?”

“Hm,” Kíli thought.

“Do you know any other stories with dragons, Bilbo?” Bifur asked, in khuzdul. 

“Oh, I know a few of them.” He responded. “But most of them don’t have happy endings - at least not for humans, elves or even dwarves, I’m afraid.” He paused, thinking. 

“Ah, I know a perfect story. It has a lot of evil in it and it’s not entirely happy but the ending is a good one, for your kin at least.” 

They all sat comfortably to hear him.

“Tell me, have you ever heard of the War of the Last Alliance?” Bilbo questioned and many of them shook their heads and murmured ‘no’. “Well, it begins like this…”

_To be continued..._


	6. Part V - Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin glared at him. Dwalin pretended he didn’t see. What he hadn’t told Bilbo about was that to apply this kind of blow, you usually had to be really close to the other person. This could be a kill two birds with one stone situation - the hobbit would learn and he would do a favour to his emotionally constipated friend who seemed unable to make a move on his One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give up! I can't wait an entire week to post one chapter. It's too much so I'll be updating twice a week lol
> 
> Enjoy!!

Dwalin wasn’t one to complain about things. He was a seasoned warrior that had had his fair share of troubles and uncomfortable situations in life - he dealt with many unpleasant arrangements over the years. But he had to admit that, until now, he hadn’t known misery as a palpable feeling in the air. The forest in Mirkwood was full of if, its air humid and stuffy, the trees dense and oppressive above them, without sunlight to guide them, it looked like a tunnel of endless forests. Dwarves liked mountains and mines, they avoided forests if possible. Being forced to cross this one for the weeks to come was going to be suffocating.

Even the hobbit, who appeared to like green things and nature, looked depressed with the perspective. Dwalin heard him asking Bofur if he could see a sliver of daylight.

“Valar, I hate this place,” Bilbo declared after they had resigned themselves without fire - Glóin had tried three times and not a sign of fire was seen. Several heads turned to him. “What?”

“Don’t hobbits like trees and green things?” Fíli asked, frowning.

“Don’t forget vegetables.” Kíli said.

“Well, yes.” He said. His expression turned dark and he cast a look at the forest. “But I like alive green things - as you put it. This forest has a different feeling in it, one I’m not entirely sure I like.” His ears twitched, as if he had heard something. “I only saw a forest like this once - and it wasn’t good. The trees there were awake - but not alive and healthy. It was a twisted place, and the forest was conscious of every visitor and they all lost their way there because the trees would move. Oh, and there was the matter that it was being used by evil forces at the time too - so you can imagine what kinds of creatures had free way inside the forest.”

“Trees can move?” Ori asked, worried. They all looked around nervously.

“Yes.” Bilbo said. “But only old ones and they’re mostly gone now. There are some of them who only wake when people are destroying their forest.”

“So you think the trees here can move?” Dori asked.

“I don’t know.” Bilbo got up, took his stick and made a line for the nearest tree. He touched it and closed his eyes. “Yes, the trees here can move. But they won’t.”

“How can you be sure?” Dwalin asked.

“They are dying - the whole forest is sick. The trees here sleep. That’s why the air is oppressive here, all the good life is going away and what remains are…” Bilbo turned his head, curious with something. “Well, I’m not sure, but they look like big creatures to me.” He pointed at something far away. “They are probably watching us, right now. But I doubt they’ll come - unless we stray from the path.”

“You’ve seen them too, Bilbo?” Ori asked. “I thought I was going mad.”

“They are a little hard to miss, lad.” Bofur told him.

“I’ve seen them too, Ori.” Fíli told him. “Big red eyes, bigger than hands - staring at me when I had my watch the other night. They looked like…” He swallowed hard.

“A big spider?” Nori asked, a raised eyebrow. “Yes, there are plenty of them around here. Didn’t you see the webs? It gives me the creeps.”

“I don’t like that they stay there just watching.” Glóin spoke from his place, still trying to light a fire.

Thorin decided to put a stop to their conversation right then. “This path is protected - I do not know by what, but it is safe. As long as we stay on it and keep together, we will pass through the forest unharmed. Do not pay attention to the eyes, they will try to distract us from the path.”

It seemed to work with some of the dwarves, easing the frown lines in their foreheads, and they went back to what they were doing. But a few, such as Dwalin and Bilbo, still were left unconvinced and watched the forest with suspicion.

Normally, Dwalin would be the first to call it all bullshit with this fear of pieces of wood and leaves. But he had to admit, the hobbit’s description was a good one. The forest was dying and no good creatures lived here. It was creepy and unsettling. There was no sound, not even of the wind, and at night dozens of eyes surrounded them, watching, waiting. He couldn’t sleep well, the feeling of being observed made the hair on the back of his neck stand on. More than once he reached for his axe on reflex, only to find that the eyes had retreated back.

He told himself he was being paranoid. It was only a forest - trees, shadows and some spider webs. He had slaughtered many beasts and orcs, what were some spiders compared to that? It turned out to be worse than the battles he had been to. In those, he could see what he was killing and actually kill it. Here, on this forsaken forest in elven territory, he could not see their enemies, could not go look for them - they were faceless, and fed by their imagination, it could gain whatever proporcions his fears could give to them. 

As a consequence, Dwalin wasn’t sleeping - and when he did, his dreams were plagued by nightmares. His temper - not a good one under normal circumstances, was even fooler. He spoke even less and most of his time was dedicated to watch the forest - one could never be too careful.

\--.--

Dwalin knew what was expected of him when he joined Thorin for the quest. He had to protect Thorin, his family, and the company. Slay the obstacles until they reached their destination and maybe even help kill the dragon - but that only if he had no other option. That was all of it. It was even written in detail in his contract. But in none of the clauses was written anything along the lines ‘teach a blind hobbit how to use a weapon’. Dwalin considered Thorin his best friend, even a brother. But his request was stepping on a line. 

Dwalin could still remember Thorin approaching him in that dreadful morning with his request. They were still at Beorn’s house and Thorin had come to him after breakfast. He had never seen his friend look so uncomfortable.

“I have a favour to ask,” Thorin said.

Dwalin had been seated under a tree, thinking about taking a quick nap and enjoying the warmth from the day. But at Thorin’s words, Dwalin became uneasy - his friend never asked for favours. If he was, the chances were high that he wouldn’t like what Thorin would say. He wasn’t wrong in it.

“I would like for you to help me teach the hobbit how to fight.” His friend said. “He needs to learn how to defend himself.”

“No.” Dwalin answered. “Can’t you ask for your nephews to teach him, instead? They are friends and I’m sure they would love to help him - and they know enough to not let the hobbit hurt himself.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t trust them with the job. They would go easy on him.” He said with a scowl.

Thorin didn’t say anything else and Dwalin could see his anxiety in the way he was standing still but looked twitchy. His fists closed and opened, a telling sign of his impatience. There was something in his friend’s behaviour that didn’t suit him right. Even if he was trying to be casual about it. 

“Thorin, don’t lie to me,” Dwalin said, apprehensive. “What is going on?”

“I simply wish him to survive our quest,” Dwalin knew he lied when he didn’t meet his eyes.

“Bullshit.” Dwalin said, starting to lose his patience. He sat straighter and faced his friend fully. “Tell me what this is about, truly.”

Thorin opened his mouth to respond, probably with more bullshit and Dwalin cut him before he could.

“You didn’t give a shit before. Not to him nor to any of the others. Why do you want to train him now? What changed?” He demanded to know. “And if you say something about him being running to every danger we encounter, I’ll know you’re lying - because you didn’t care, not even when you thought he was lost at the goblin’s caves.”

Thorin didn’t pretend to deny he was about to lie.

“You know it doesn’t matter, right? Even if we teach him, when we face the dragon, we’ll die anyway. It’s not like the chances are at our favour.”

“Any chance is better than nothing, Dwalin.” He said anguished. Dwalin had never heard him like this. “You must understand, Dwalin. I need him to survive this.” And the despair was clear in his eyes when he met Dwalin’s. 

But why would Thorin-

_Oh._

The realisation put everything to sense. His friend’s odd behaviour towards the hobbit - all of it. Dwalin suddenly wanted to forget this conversation - wished it was just a nightmare and he would wake up under the tree and be back to the way things were.

“You’re joking.” He breathed in disbelief.

Thorin shook his head, lips a thin line. He was deadly serious. Dwalin looked to the property around him, processing the information.

“Shit.” He said.

It all fit together: ever since the night in the Shire, Thorin had been irritated, humor inconstant. He had been oblivious but Dwalin’s eyes didn’t see it - or maybe his mind didn’t want to decipher the signs, hoping he was reading too much into things.

Well, at least Thorin had remained true to his personality. He scowled and glared at the hobbit, his disdain clear and yet his eyes never left him. The worst point had been at Rivendell, when Thorin glared at the elves and reached for his sword under the table when Lord Elrond’s sons touched Bilbo - Dwalin had to physically stop Thorin from doing any stupidity. 

After he had been insufferable since he no longer had the excuse of been watching the hobbit to see if he wasn’t betraying their quest. But the hug on Carrock was the strangest thing Thorin had ever done. His friend had never made public displays of affection - not once in the century and a half that Dwalin knew him - and if he ever did, it was with family members. He never touched anyone outside of his small group of friends.

Now Dwalin knew better - Thorin had made a claim on the hobbit without being too obvious about it. Not that the others had noticed it, for them, it was a sign that Thorin had accepted the hobbit as a full member of the company - well, maybe Balin had, but if he did, he didn’t comment on it.

All the signs were there and Dwalin had been blind to them - the attention, worry, possessiveness, jealousy. He could hardly ignore them before and now, with Thorin’s confession, there was no running from the truth.

The first thing Dwalin blurted out was, “The hobbit? Really?”

Thorin turned to him.

“Do you think I’m happy about it?” He asked, angry. 

“Thorin-” Dwalin tried to fix his question but his friend didn’t let him. It seemed that since the secret was finally out, Thorin needed to vent his frustration. He closed his mouth and let him.

“What do you want to know, Dwalin? That I can’t think straight when I should be worried about the company? That I spend every minute thinking about him and can’t focus?” Thorin said. “I am obsessed with him, Dwalin. But he prefers the company of others instead of me. You saw me at the elves’ place, I’m jealous of him and he isn’t even mine. Worse, he is completely uninterested in me.”

Dwalin signed.

“Is it so horrible?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“No. But it is inconvenient.” He replied, some of his anger abated. “I feel like a brainless orc. I forget my manners when I’m near him and I want to strangle anyone who gives two steps towards him. How am I supposed to lead us on this quest if I can’t shake my mind from thoughts of him?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t understand how anyone thought this was an inspiration for poetry.”

“I’m glad I didn’t meet my One - for all the luck we have, I would have ended up with an elf.” Dwalin joked lightly.

His friend glared at him but it had no heat in it.

“He avoids me like plague - I don’t think an elf would’ve been much different.”

“He still saved your life.”

Thorin signed and nodded, deeply unhappy. Dwalin didn’t like to see his friend like this. He gave in.

“All right. I’ll help you to teach your hobbit. But I want it recorded that I’m not happy about it.”

Thorin looked grateful. 

“Thank you, Dwalin. I will tell him about it.”

“I can see his excitement about it from here.” He smirked.

Thorin’s lips formed a smile. 

“Well, it’s not like he’ll enjoy it - nobody’ll be happy about it.” And he turned to walk back to Beorn’s house. 

Dwalin watched him leave. _I hope you know what you’re doing, my friend._

That, without question, had been the most awkward conversation of Dwalin’s life. He couldn’t understand Thorin’s heart but then, dwarves have soulmates chosen by Mahal himself. And Dwalin wouldn’t question their Creator. It certainly was disconcerting and kind of amusing to watch Thorin. If his friend hoped to woo the hobbit, he was doing a terrible job at it. Dwalin would store it all for his wedding, though - as a good friend should. Who else would tell the embarrassing stories of Thorin and his enchanting manners?

\--.--

He and Thorin had been totally hesitant about the sword lessons after the hobbit had told them about his blindness. How were they supposed to teach him if he couldn’t see the danger coming on his way? He had seen Thorin grip the chair so hard that he was sure it had cracked a little. His friend remained quiet for the rest of the evening. What surprised him the most were the other dwarves - they seemed shocked at first but quickly dismissed it with the hobbit’s declaration of ‘being able to look after himself’ - bullshit in Dwalin’s ears. He had half of a mind to put the little creature in the middle of a battle just to see how well he could ‘look after himself’, and he only hadn’t done it because of Thorin, who would have his head for it.

But they hadn’t much to do in this forsaken forest than to cover ground and sleep at night since it appeared that, apart from the eyes watching them, no other danger waited for them. So he had started training the hobbit. Thorin was supervising the lesson and it seemed that the entire company wanted to see how it would go - it was, after all, their only entertainment available.

He had taken a thick stick from the trees to begin with. He wouldn’t risk an injury by using their swords on the first lesson. The hobbit had his own stick and he listened attentively when, with patience, Dwalin explained to him the positions and for what they served. He talked about the foot work and how important it was to be always moving smartly when facing an enemy. He explained about not wasting energy and how focusing on blocking the moves was sometimes better than trying to hit the opponent, especially if he was stronger than you.

The hobbit listened to him and didn’t ask questions. He waited until Dwalin had explained the basics to speak.

“Could you show them to me?” He asked. “The positions, I mean.”

This would be the difficult part, Dwalin thought. And awkward too - Thorin was watching intently and Dwalin wasn’t sure he was comfortable with touching the hobbit all the time to correct his position. _Well, let’s get over with it_ , he thought, moving to the hobbit to position him. 

He was stopped though, by Bilbo himself.

“No, you stay there.” He raised his hand. “It’s part of my training to feel your movements. I’ll imitate your stance from here.” 

Dwalin didn’t think it would work but he wasn’t about to contradict the hobbit - it would be best to prove to him that it wouldn’t work than to argue. He moved then, standing on his guard. 

Bilbo seemed unmoved, head tilted to one side. Dwalin was about to start explaining why this wasn’t a good idea when the hobbit moved. He made the exact same movement as Dwalin and ended up in the same position, even his feet, he noticed, were positioned correctly. 

Dwalin tested the hobbit again. He moved and Bilbo moved when he finished. He had a look of firm concentration. The dwarf proceeded to show the hobbit all the positions. He took notice that the more he moved, more attuned Bilbo became - at the final position, they were moving together with little delay, almost synced. Well, the hobbit proved he could imitate him but could he do on his own?

“Now, I want you to show me all the positions, from the first.” He instructed.

Bilbo started moving, positioning himself. He stopped for inspection and when Dwalin didn’t say anything, he moved to the other positions. He had to be corrected on tiny details but overall, he had a good memory. Now, the difficult part - putting those parts together in a fight. The only way to learn was to practice. 

“I’m going to fight with you and I want you to use these positions while trying to block my attacks. Do you think you can do it?”

“I can certainly try.” Bilbo answered. 

Dwalin advanced at him, slowly. Bilbo stood his guard, waiting to be attacked. Dwalin made his first movement and the hobbit blocked him, a little too late - but that was to be expected. He didn’t stop and continued trying to hit him, giving chances to Bilbo to practice the positions, which he did, graciously. He started getting confident but still didn’t try to attack Dwalin - as most students would have. 

Dwalin signaled to Thorin. He wanted to see how Bilbo’s awareness worked. His friend didn’t seem content to invest against the hobbit without warning him first but he had agreed with leaving the decisions to Dwalin’s judgement, since his wouldn’t be the most beneficial to the hobbit. He approached and the dwarves held their breaths collectively. 

Bilbo noticed. He blocked Dwalin, hard, sending him two steps behind and turned half of his body to Thorin, on his guard, so that he was in position to defend himself from both of them, if necessary. But the attack didn’t come. Both Thorin and Dwalin surprised at the hobbit’s strength - to push someone as heavy as Dwalin two steps back was no easy feat. Since when Bilbo was this strong?

“Well?” He asked, provoking. His smile with sharp edges. 

This time, Thorin advanced along with Dwalin. They sped up the rhythm and Bilbo kept up with them. Until both of them stroke at the same time. Bilbo couldn’t block both and ended up on the ground. He got up quickly and soon enough they were on it again. They practiced for a good few hours until Bombur called to dinner - which was rations.

While they ate, Dwalin could feel that the others were impressed with the hobbit. He himself was too. He had to admit Bilbo had potential. With his courage, and dedication, he would be a good warrior - if he had time to train intensely as one, which they hadn’t, but he would at least know how to hold a sword by the time they reached Erebor. Dwalin was relieved too. Teaching Bilbo wouldn’t be difficult as it was with Fíli and Kíli. He was calm and did as told. Most important, he paid attention to the instructions. 

When Óin finished, he went to Bilbo. 

“Let me see your back.” He told him. “You hit the ground pretty hard tonight.”

Bilbo put his food aside and removed his shirt. He had only three purple bruises on his arms where Dwalin had hit him. 

“Don’t worry, Óin. I can heal myself.” And the bruises lessened, fading until there was nothing but unharmed skin. 

This became their routine. They would walk during the day, stop for the night, making camp - without fire, unfortunately - and Dwalin would call Bilbo to train until Bombur called them to dine. Thorin would always watch and sometimes join them. 

During dinner, they would talk and sing to try to shake themselves from the oppressive air of the forest. One of the nights, Bilbo was telling them about the Shire and the competition among kids to throw rocks at birds and other animals to pass time. Dwalin was listening, not really paying attention, when he had a realisation. 

“Wait, are you telling me that you can throw things?” He interrupted. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant?” He said, sheepish.

“You may have a potentially deadly skill and didn’t think of telling us? You do realize that we could’ve been training you with knives too, right?” Dwalin said, a little exasperated.

“Oh, I didn’t think about it.” He responded. “But I don’t know if I’m any good - it’s been a long while since I threw rocks.” 

“It doesn’t matter, you can practice again - _Nori_ could let you borrow some of his knives.” He said, looking at the bloody thief. “Be a gentleman and let the hobbit use some of your knives.” He talked to Nori. 

Nori huffed but reached inside his jacket and retrieved some knives. He gave them to the hobbit. He looked unsure - Dwalin was too, how a blind hobbit managed to throw things was beyond him but he learned not to judge him by his blindness.

Bilbo carefully felt the knives with his fingers, one by one. He spent a good five minutes analysing them - so much that Dwalin was losing his patience but he remained silent. When he finished, he lifted his head.

“Where should I aim to?”

“It depends.” Dwalin said with uncertainty. “This will sound stupid but what can you see, Bilbo?”

“Hm,” He thought, turning his head. “I can see you all, a few trees ahead.” His ears twitched. “There’s a little spider climbing a tree, maybe I could try to hit it?”

“Go ahead then.” 

Bilbo got up. He positioned himself and in a second, the knife was flying towards its target. Dwalin hadn’t seen the spider but Kíli was quick to retrieve the knife from the tree. He returned with the spider, dead. It had hit its head.

“Wow Bilbo, are you sure you’re blind?” He joked. Then he realized what he had said. “I mean-”

“That’s alright, Kíli.” Bilbo told him. “I don’t think I would mind jokes. I am not that short sighted.” 

Fíli laughed and Kíli soon joined him. They sat again in a circle.

“We could train you with a bow.” Kíli suggested.

Bilbo shrugged. “I don’t know about it...but I’m willing to try. I think that the problem would be the targets.”

“How so?” Dori asked.

“I only ‘see’ things that are moving. That’s why I use my stick, otherwise, I wouldn’t have problems walking in places I’m not familiar with. Everything that moves produces sounds and that gives me an idea of its location and size. Well, sounds and smells. But it’s not like we have many living targets for me to practice. Right now, I don’t hear anything except for, you know, the creatures with red eyes near us - and I'm not eager to provoke a fight with them.” 

“That’ll be a problem.” Kíli said. 

“Maybe you could hit a hat that someone holds for you?” Bofur suggested.

“That could work, and I can always heal the person if I end up missing the target.” 

It was decided. While they were walking, Fíli and Kíli would call Bilbo from different places on the line and he would try to hit whatever they were holding - they usually described for him the object in question and its size. Bilbo was successful most of the time. He only missed when there was a difference in the ground, such as a downhill - and accidentally hit Fíli’s arm. He healed him and apologized. Fíli was more amazed by being suddenly full of energy than anything else. Thorin looked at his nephew with an exasperated expression. 

One of the nights, Dwalin was teaching Bilbo how to attack on the most vulnerable places of the armor. Just to see the hobbit’s reaction, he called Thorin - who was always in his armor, even when sleeping, which was more paranoid than Dwalin. He approached them, not knowing what he would be put up to. 

“The most vulnerable place in armor is under the arms. It’s unprotected to give movements to the warrior and the closest place to the lungs and heart.” Dwalin looked at his friend and grinned. “To stab someone here, you open your guard, so you have to be sure when doing it.”

Bilbo nodded.

“I want you to practice it with Thorin since he’s already wearing his armor.” Dwalin said. “I’ll be watching over there.”

Thorin glared at him. Dwalin pretended he didn’t see. What he hadn’t told Bilbo about was that to apply this kind of blow, you usually had to be really close to the other person. This could be a kill two birds with one stone situation - the hobbit would learn and he would do a favour to his emotionally constipated friend who seemed unable to make a move on his One. 

It didn’t work the way Dwalin planned. Thorin finally tried to approach Bilbo after the incident, although awkward, his friend was trying. It was the hobbit who seemed aware of it and hid every time he felt the dwarf walking towards him. Dwalin didn’t understand what was wrong - he seemed incredibly flustered but he refused any advances Thorin would make. Even if he were timid, he could encourage subtly and not run away. In any case, Thorin was starting to become angry with it - all of the members of the company were aware of what was happening and soon enough, Thorin was going to become a fool. 

Dwalin wouldn’t let that happen. Before his friend could give up, or worse, say harsh words to his mate, he would have a conversation with the hobbit. It would be the second most awkward conversation in his life - but he could always demand a high share of his part of the treasure, he was sure Thorin would be too thankful with the hobbit by his side by then to notice Dwalin taking his part of the treasure.

He called the hobbit for a walk that night. Bilbo was obvious to the subject. He could try to approach it subtly but he didn’t want to. His patience had reached its limit for a while now - with those two and the forest itself that seemed endless and made his paranoia high.

“I’ll ask you just one question, hobbit.” Dwalin said when they were far from camp.

Bilbo visibly braced himself for it, confused.

“Do you have feelings for Thorin?” He asked bluntly. He observed him turning red. 

“I-” Bilbo stuttered. 

“Because if you have, you should let him know.” He told him. “Or say that you’re not interested in him. You’ll make him look like a fool if you run away every time he tries to talk to you.” 

Bilbo looked down, ashamed. 

“I...” he said, unsure, “I’ll talk to him.”

Dwalin nodded, satisfied. 

“Good. I’ll leave you free tonight.” And the implication was clear in his voice. He left Bilbo there and returned to camp. 

\--.--

Dwalin had been certain that the chances of him dying old and peaceful were slim. In his line of work, it was more likely that he would die in battle. He had imagined it many times: a glorious death, his fallen body standing over a pile of orc bodies that he had killed. Songs would be written about him. Instead, he was confronted by the possibility of being killed by suffocation, slowly, wrapped in a tight cocoon of webs. His body food for the spiders of Mirkwood. 

He remembered having scoffed at Radagast’s words about giant spiders, as well as Gandalf and Beorn’s warnings about leaving the path. If they had managed to make the journey, he wondered what would they do with the dragon - would they escape death by spiders only to be incinerated later by an enormous worm? They had received warnings about it too - but pride and gold-lust didn’t let them listen. They would pay the price for their arrogance.

The worst part, Dwalin decided, was the poison - the muscles became stiff and paralyzed, making it impossible to move, while the brain remained intact so he could be awake for the horror of being eaten alive. It was driving him mad and there was nothing he could do to avoid it. He imagined how his friend was doing - he was sure it was unbearable for Thorin, a dwarf of action to not be able to fight. He thought about the others too. Maybe some of them had suffocated already - it was more merciful than being spider food.

His thoughts shifted to other member of their company. The hobbit. Had Bilbo been caught too? He was improving in his sword lessons but he was still blind above all. Or did he manage to escape, slip away, as he had in the goblins caves? If he had, Dwalin could be happy for him, there was no need for all of them to die there, after all.  
If the hobbit had escaped, he couldn’t do much to rescue them. Alone and blind, what difference could he make against the spiders? They would be incapacitated and unable to help.

Still, Dwalin would die with few regrets, the most recent being not running from the tree to save Thorin from the warg. If it weren’t for Bilbo’s bravery, Thorin would be dead, and so would they. But then Dwalin heard Bilbo’s voice somewhere below him, working to get them all free - a miracle indeed, and one that Dwalin hoped would last until they could escape and fight against those bloody spiders. 

He smiled. The hobbit could take care of himself, after all.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter!
> 
> See you guys on the weekend!!


	7. Part VI - Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Was that you?”
> 
> “Yes. It was me.” Bilbo said. 
> 
> “You’re not a hobbit, are you?”
> 
> “No, I’m not.” Bilbo answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!!

Nori led a questionable life to put it lightly. He had been in prisons more than once, enough to classify their conditions and judge the security. The elven dungeon was a paradise compared to other prisons Nori had stayed at. The cells had space to do exercises, were airy and the food was good - except for the lack of meat, which seemed a trait among elves, but that was tolerable. All things considered, he was almost glad to be imprisoned, since the alternative was to starve to death in the forest or to become food for spiders.

Still, comfortable or not, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days in an elven dungeon. He ate his meal - anything was delicious enough if you hadn’t eaten in days - and used the opportunity to explore his cell and the dungeon outside. Any crack or weakness that he could use would be a good beginning and if he didn’t find any, he would still be hopeful because no prison was perfect and every lock could be opened - with the right means. 

Nori guessed the time by how many times the guards passed and delivered the meals. There was no light of the day inside the dungeon - it was naturally bright because of the material of the walls but it would be impossible to mark the passage of time this way. He had a rough estimate that they had been caught almost a week ago. The elves didn’t try to interrogate him or to make anyone talk about their quest and Nori had two thoughts about it: first, the elves were too soft to use torture, second, they had time at their side, and could wait for an eternity for them to say anything. It didn’t matter, Nori was having a pleasant vacation from their forest, and he wasn’t worried, sooner or later, he would manage to escape.

His only worry at the present moment was with his little brother, Ori. He knew the other dwarves were too stubborn to spill about their quest but his younger brother was a gentle soul and he might consider telling things to the elves if he thought it could help them. He toyed with the idea of breaking out - he still had his lock-picking kit tucked deep in his undershirt and he had managed to unlock the door. But at the end, it was just an idea. Where would he go if he broke out? He had no idea of the shape of the place and would probably get lost and ultimately, caught before he could see his little brother. And if, by a miracle, he managed to pass unnoticed - which was almost impossible, because elven hearing was sharp - he still would have no plan of escape. He was in a corner without an out.

He was still pondering his options when he heard a familiar voice.

“Nori?”

“Bilbo?” He said in disbelief.

Out of thin air the hobbit appeared. He turned his head around cautiously, trying to hear any sounds of elves, before stepping close to the bars.

“You are locked all over the place. I’m trying to find everyone but it’s been a little difficult. I still have to find Dwalin, Thorin and Glóin.” He told him. “Your brothers are fine, that I can tell.”

“Thank Mahal.” Nori said. He crossed the cell to be closer to the hobbit. “Did you speak to them?”

“Yes. Ori is a bit lonely, but he still has his sewing kit, so he’s keeping himself busy. Do you wish to send him a message to him?”

“That would be very nice of you, thank you.” He paused. “Wait, they have Thorin here as well?”

“Yes, I heard the guards talking about another dwarf held in the lowest part of the dungeons. I haven’t been able to visit him yet, though, because I was searching for all of you.”

“Try to visit him as soon as you’re able to.”

“It shouldn’t take me long - a day or two.”

“I assume you’re using the magic ring to walk unnoticed?” 

“Yes.” Bilbo said. “It’s very effective. But-”

“But?”

“Without my stick, it’s been a little difficult to orientate myself, I’m afraid.” He looked embarrassed. “I have to be extra careful to not stray from the walls, and it doesn’t help that this place looks like the goblin’s caves in the layout. So far, I’ve been able to reach the main gate but it’s heavily guarded and is locked by magic, as well as other entrances. I’ll still look for a way out that allows us to leave without raising an alarm.”

“You can do it, Bilbo.” Nori clasped his shoulder. “Just be careful. Our only advantage is that you’re free and the elves don’t know about you. Between you and me, I’m sure we’ll think of a plan. I’ve escaped from worse and I tell you, every prison has a weakness.” Then, he had an idea. “Could you draw a floor plan of the palace?”

Bilbo thought for a moment. 

“I don’t think I could.” And Nori deflated. “But I can describe it to you and then check your drawing. Would that suffice?”

“Yes, we can work with that.” Nori smiled, more hopeful. “But find Thorin first - as soon as we have a map, we’ll sketch a plan and we can’t do it without his knowledge.” 

Then he reached inside his jacket and pulled an old piece of cloth. “Could you take this to Ori, please? Tell him to stay calm. I feel we’ll be out of here very soon.”

Bilbo took it. “I should leave now. I’ll be back when I have some news.” 

The hobbit put the ring on and disappeared. Nori didn’t hear him sneaking away - if he hadn’t just talked to Bilbo, he would never have guessed he had been there at all. He could see why, even blind, Gandalf had chosen him. The hobbit had a talent when he put his mind to it. He had become the burglar their company needed.

\--.--

Bilbo appeared two days later. He looked tired and wary. Nori was at the door in a flash.

“I found Thorin and the others.” He told Nori. “He is in the lowest part but there aren’t many elves guarding him. He sent a message to you all that you shouldn’t mention our quest under any circumstances. And he is very glad that everyone is safe.”

“Good.” Nori smiled. “Have you discovered anything interesting?”

“Yes. Next week, the elven king will celebrate the harvest - and everyone on the court is invited. The security here will be low so I think that’s the perfect time to escape. I just have to find a way out of here.” He paused, searching for something in his pockets. “Which reminds me of this.” He handed Nori a blank page and a pen. “I can describe   
the place for you, if you want.” 

“That would be for the best.” He paused, thinking about arrangements. “Wait. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Nori was a little thrown back by the hobbit’s clear response, without conditionals. Few people trusted him - he had to hide his surprise from Bilbo. He took a tool from his lock-picking kit and in a minute he had popped the door open to him. 

“You can enter.” He told Bilbo. “I think it would be better if you don’t have to worry about hiding if a guard approaches.”

Bilbo looked a little wary. 

“How did-” He decided against whatever he was going to say. “Never mind.” 

He entered the cell and they sat on the ground with the paper between them. Nori was thinking about the logistics - until now, Bilbo seemed to have a good sense of direction and space, the hobbit hadn't looked lost even once and he had been able to navigate through the corridors of the dungeon without difficulties, as Nori deduced. The dwarf concluded it would be only a matter of communication to draw the map. 

“Nori?” Bilbo’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “I may have a way to show you the place, if you’re amenable to it.” 

That picked the dwarf’s interest. 

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there.” He said cautiously.

“Yeah,” Bilbo said. “I could make you see what I saw. But I’m a little concerned about the lingering effects it might have on you.” 

“What do you think could happen?”

“I’ve never done this before, you see.” Bilbo shifted nervously. “Not with good intentions, at least. I will, to put it simply, enter your mind. I would be able to see your memories - not that I would look for them! - and this thing, entering your mind, can make you highly susceptible to me.”

Nori became serious. How much had the hobbit been hiding from them? He didn’t know halflings before Bilbo but he was sure he would know if their race was known for mind control - as he had not quite described with words. Was Bilbo even a hobbit? Sure, he looked like one but these abilities were not something commonly found in Middle Earth. Wizards and elves were usually the people who had magical tricks and powers. But if he added everything together that Bilbo had told them he could do, Nori would seriously bet that he was more resourceful than Gandalf.

That was no small conclusion. How did a person like Bilbo managed to be unknown for this long? And Nori still had to take into consideration that Gandalf and lord Elrond seemed pretty secretive of him - even the elf’s sons didn’t know about the hobbit. This only made him more suspicious of Bilbo. What exactly was he? What were the extensions of his abilities? For neither Gandalf had displayed such powers during their travelling. 

Unfortunately, Nori couldn’t dwell on it now. He had a map to draw and so far, even if mysterious, Bilbo had proved to be nothing but loyal - in the numerous opportunities he had to defect them, he chose willing to remain, risking his own life for them. Nori knew very few people would have done the same. He had to give the hobbit the benefit of doubt. 

“Okay,” Nori said slowly. “If you think this is the best way, we try it. If it doesn’t work, we can always think of something else.”

Bilbo nodded. “I’ll try not to be too invasive.”

_You’ll be entering my mind_ , Nori thought, _how’s that not invasive?_

The hobbit shifted and so did Nori. They were sitting face to face, knees crossed. Bilbo’s expression was a mix of worry and greedy - a malicious glint in his eyes that wasn’t entirely natural. Nori was almost giving up and saying they should do this in another way but Bilbo’s hand found his face and his conscience was suspended. 

Nori felt trapped in his own mind - he was there but he found he wasn’t in command anymore, it was terrifying. He started to panic and try to find a way out - to back out of whatever Bilbo was doing.

“Nori,” he heard. “I need you to breath. Take deep breaths.” The voice commanded - and it wasn’t Bilbo’s voice that spoke to him, although Nori sensed it was, somehow the hobbit’s.

“Yes, just like that. Keep breathing. I won’t leave you here, I promise. I just need to open your thoughts to me so you can receive mine.” It said, deep and ancient. “It’ll be confusing at first, but you must not reject them.” 

And Nori couldn’t deny anything to that powerful voice. 

A moment later, he felt it, something invading his mind. Not quite images but sensations and shapes - there were even smells associated with them. Nori tried to remain calm, he could still feel the presence of the voice deep inside, in the corner, hidden by shadows. It was enormous and dangerous, he realized. A creature that seemed to occupy most of his head. Nori couldn’t discern its shape but the weight and the sensations it caused him left an impression. Was this what Bilbo really was? 

He moved, feeling the memories around him, seeing them. 

Nori saw the world through Bilbo’s eyes - a collection of thoughts and feelings that formed not quite images. It took awhile for Nori to begin to comprehend what he was experiencing. The path of the dungeons and the palace was forming gradually. He could locate their companions - and the treasury room for some reason - and he had a blurry notion of the space. It was all darkness and just feelings but if he concentrated, he could form shapes to it. 

“Nori?” This time, it was the hobbit’s voice that greeted him, guiding him out of his own mind. “Can you hear me?”

“Bilbo.” He felt disoriented.

“I’m here, take it easy.” Bilbo patted his shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Strange.” He said honestly. “I think I can see the layout of this place and draw it.”

The hobbit nodded. “Good.”

“Were you-” Nori started. “Was that you?”

“Yes. It was me.” Bilbo said. 

Nori paused. 

“You’re not a hobbit, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Bilbo answered. “But it’s more complicated than that. For now though, I am a hobbit.”

He felt that there was more to it than what Bilbo was letting on but he didn’t press. Nori was still shaken from the experience and he had a map to draw, which it would take a lot of his time because he still had to refine Bilbo’s memories and find sense in them. Sensing his discomfort, Bilbo intervened.

“Could you open the door?” He asked. “I need to keep looking for an exit.” 

Nori got up and opened it for him. 

“I think that by tomorrow I’ll have finished it.” Nori said.

“I’ll come by then.” Bilbo stepped out. “I’ll check it and if I have found anything useful, we can start coming up with a plan.”

Nori nodded. “I’ll be waiting. Be careful.”

The hobbit put on the ring and disappeared. 

\--.--

The dwarf spent the entire night working on the map. Thanks to Bilbo, it had a lot of details. For someone blind, Bilbo had picked the smallest things - the dimensions were blurry still but he had the range of the place they were in as well as the general dimension of the palace and it’s many rooms. Nori was able to trace a route to the cells of his companions with ease. 

It was strange to compare it to his own memories of his glimpses of the corridors he had seen when the elves dragged him to their cells. He had a good notion of spatial imagination - it helped him more than once during his spying missions on enemy territory. With his experience, he could already predict the routes of the guards and the distance between cells. 

He put the map away and thought about Bilbo. He had been true to his word and hadn’t looked at Nori’s memories but the dwarf was still shady about him. He didn’t know exactly what Bilbo was but he had the impression it wasn’t anything good - the malice in his eyes and the voice Nori heard gave him shivers. He estimated Bilbo was almost as old as Lord Elrond, if not more. That kind of voice and his size indicated that he was indeed a creature, and since they didn’t hear about them anymore, he could only guess that he was one of the few left. 

The question was: should Nori be worried about him? Bilbo had done nothing that could raise mistrust and he had been helpful. And risking himself with the spiders was not a small deed. He had no idea if Bilbo was brave or fool - maybe, now that Nori was aware of what he was, Bilbo had simply done them a favour. The thief had the impression that, even without training with Dwalin and Thorin, Bilbo would be able to kill all the spiders alone - he was just maintaining the hobbit character. Nonetheless, it had been impressive to see him in action, when he thought no one was watching.

Nori and the others had been weak from the poison, weaponless and barely able to stand, much less fight. Bilbo had stood there, facing the spiders, not a trace of fear in his face. His sword moving expertly, nothing standing in his way. The dwarf had his doubts about Bilbo when he had confessed his blindness to them but experiencing first hand Bilbo in action left Nori speechless. He moved like a serpent, agile and attuned to their company, protecting them, standing as a protective wall.

He had seen Dwalin looking at the hobbit too - his expression of surprise and respect. Bilbo must’ve been holding back from his training. 

Now that he analysed the moment Nori couldn’t help but wonder about how the distribution of power would change when they escaped out of this place. It was clear that Bilbo had gained the trust of some of them before Mirkwood. When he freed them, the others would look to him for guidance and he would be respected by all. It wouldn’t surprise Nori if some started to prefer Bilbo over Thorin. 

For once, Nori understood why Gandalf had chosen Bilbo as the fourteenth member - he was proving to be a formidable resource for the company. He felt more confident that, with Bilbo by their side, facing the dragon could end in something other than a complete tragedy. Thorin seemed to have no plans concerning the dragon from what Nori had heard - even Balin didn’t look happy about it. And he knew many of them were counting with Gandalf to slay the beast. Why their leader wasn’t worried, Nori had no idea. Maybe he was confident in Bilbo’s abilities? In any case, Nori noticed Bilbo wasn’t aware that his own actions were guiding him towards a motion to change the leadership in the company.

\--.--

Bilbo continued to visit him but it was always rushed. He delivered mensagens between the company and spent most of his time searching for an exit. Thorin must have been pushing him, Nori thought. With the day of the celebration approaching rapidly, the hobbit had no time to waste. Nori wondered if he was sleeping. 

The answer was no. 

“I can survive without sleeping for a few days, don’t worry.” Bilbo dismissed his concerns when he had stopped by.

“At least you’re eating, right?” Nori asked, concerned. By the look Bilbo threw him, he wasn’t the only one.

“I can take care of myself, Nori.” 

“I know you can.” He appeased. “But if you’re not eating, how can you get us out of here? You’ll be in no conditions to pass unnoticed by the guards.” 

“Nori.” His voice was serious. “I am fine.”

“I heard Bombur saying that hobbits eat seven meals a day.” He continued. “And we were already starving in the forest. How can you be fine? You can’t be saying that you haven’t eaten since.”

Bilbo exhaled. 

“I’m not exactly a hobbit, am I?” 

“Are you saying you don’t need to eat? Or sleep?” He asked incredulously.

“Oh, believe me I do.” Bilbo said. “But I can survive without it for longer than you. I’m fine Nori, really.” 

Nori processed this. 

“You know what’s been the bad part for me?” The hobbit said. “Having to be invisible. The forest was horrible, yes. But we had each other’s company. Here, I’m half bored and half stressed by fear of being discovered. I could-” He cut himself. “Well, I could have freed you all sooner but it would be in a very flashy way. And the idea is to be discreet so I’m looking for an exit that allows us this. I can’t wait to be out of here.” 

“Me too.” Nori agreed. “You’ll find an exit.”

“I’ll do my best. I have to, our time is running out.” He said. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Good luck.”

\--.--

“I found a way out.” Bilbo greeted him the next day. He looked excited and mischievous about it. 

“Judging by your face, the others are not going to like it, are they?” Nori questioned, already opening the door for him.

“Well, I said I would look for a way out that wasn’t guarded. I found it - now, if the company likes it or not, that’s their problem. They can stay here and be my guests to look for another exit. I know I’m getting out of here.”

Nori laughed. 

“Okay,” they sat on the ground, “show me what you found.”

This time, Nori was more prepared for the experience. He braced himself and didn’t panic when he felt Bilbo’s presence in his mind. It was as heavy as the last time and dark but now that he knew what to expect, he found that it wasn’t a threatening feeling. Sure, he was aware that this creature - Bilbo - was dangerous, but not to him. 

“You seem more calm.” The voice noted. 

“I’m more prepared this time, I think.” Nori replied.

It laughed and the sound resonated through his mind. The dwarf was still feeling its vibrations when he felt the memories come to him. A place where the elves stored wine. There appeared to be a hatch on the floor - it led to a river and Nori could imagine why many of the company wouldn’t like it. Only one guard watched the place and he smelled strongly of wine - Nori smiled, with the party going on, he wouldn’t be sober. Even if he was, one elf could be taken care of.

“Okay, this looks promising.” He told Bilbo. “Can you show me the way to the pantry?”

He felt himself being guided through the way, as if he was in the hobbit’s body. It wasn’t complicated, just far from their cells. It would be very difficult for thirteen dwarves to pass unseen, even with the attention elsewhere. There were some open places they would have to cross that Nori didn’t like. It would leave them too exposed. 

“Leave it to me.” Bilbo said about the open rooms. 

“How do you plan to hide us?” 

Nori felt a diabolical smile directed to him. 

“Not hide.” He said, mysterious. 

When he didn’t elaborate, Nori decided to not press. He would have to trust Bilbo and so far, he hadn’t regretted it. He felt the presence leave him, and opened his eyes. Bilbo was looking at him.

“What do you think?” 

“I think I have to finish this map so you can inform the others.” Nori smiled. 

He finished it and gave it to Bilbo for inspection. 

“It looks good.” He praised. “I’ll tell Thorin first and as soon as he gives his approval, I’ll explain it to others. If everything goes right, tomorrow night we leave this place.” 

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

\--.--

Bilbo went to Nori first the next night. 

“It’s all clear. There’s only a few guards doing rounds but we should be fine if we’re silent.”

The dwarf unlocked his door and kept the tool on his hand. He stepped out and then they moved. They would pass first on the most distant cell - Thorin’s - and then continue in order of proximity with the kitchens. They didn’t see any guards and Bilbo didn’t hear any noise. Both he and Nori were moving with familiarity on the terrain. Nori felt what the hobbit meant when he said he would become susceptible to him - the dwarf felt an invisible force move him besides his own. It was like a string linked him to Bilbo and he felt compelled to follow him - not that he wouldn’t but he had the impression that if he didn’t, he would be forced to. The hobbit seemed unaware of it, continuing to guide Thorin along. 

They reached the other part of the prison where there were Dwalin and Glóin. Nori quickly opened their doors. They stayed silent and the only noise heard was of footsteps - dwarves would never be completely silent, most of all a group of them. They were returning to the principal passage when Bilbo raised a hand and all of them stopped. Nori could see his ears twitching. He had an even sharper hearing than the elves. It was a minute before Bilbo cleared them to move again. They walked through an open room and turned left. 

This would be the slowest part of their plan. The princes, his brothers, Bombur and Bifur were here. It would take a while to free them all - Nori had to descend many steps to reach the last cell. He started and Bilbo stayed up with Thorin. They all knew to be paying attention to Bilbo for signs of guards. At this point in their plan, if Bilbo heard anything, they would hide in their cells and wait. They would rely on the hobbit’s abilities only on the open, where they had no weapons. 

They were lucky no one seemed to be doing rounds down here. Soon enough, they were all together and following Bilbo again - they passed two rooms before they entered another part of the dungeons. Balin, Bofur and Óin were there. 

Now all they had to do was to cross two open rooms and they would be almost in the kitchens. Before they went, Bilbo paused to listen. 

"There are four guards standing." He said lowly. "If you stay close, I can make you pass through them without drawing attention to us." 

"They won't see us?" Balin asked.

"They will." Bilbo said. "But they will be confused and will soon forget."

The company was confused.

"Listen, you just have to walk with me and not look at them." He said firmly. "Don't engage. They will see us but if you don't react, nothing will happen, I promise."

Nori saw them doubting. Now was not the time for it. 

"We'll walk with you, Bilbo." Nori guaranteed.

"Let's go then." 

And Nori felt something like a mist enveloping them. It was invisible but the magic in the air was palpable. That must be why Bilbo didn't want them separated - his mist wouldn't work if they were apart. Nori just hoped that it would work in their favour.

Bilbo advanced and started walking slowly. The mist became more thick around them as layers were added. One of the elves saw them. He ran to them, drawing the attention of the other three. They were surrounded in seconds.

Nori tensed - they all did. Bilbo remained calm. 

"Now, _gentlemen_ ," Bilbo said, his voice strange and unnatural. "This is not the way of properly greeting guests." 

"Guests?" One of the guards asked. He was frowning. 

"Yes, _guests_." Bilbo insisted. "I'm sure you have better things to do than to bother us, gentlemen."

"Yes…" The other responded. 

"That's good." The hobbit told them. "Now, if you excuse us. _Good night_ , gentlemen."

And he nudged them forward. Nori looked at the four elves. They all looked confused. The hobbit really had sinister abilities. The group resumed the walk, without rushing. Nori turned to see what would happen with the guards and as Bilbo had promised, the confusion lasted for a moment and they seemed to forget they had seen them, returning to their posts. Their burglar would have much to explain when they reached Lake-town.

When the group arrived at the kitchen, Bilbo showed them the barrels. There were murmurs of complaints. Nori smiled, amused. This part Bilbo hadn't told them - or else they would never agree. Well, too bad. They were already here, no time to change plans. They were forced into the barrels and a few minutes later, they were falling into the river, free at last.

Completely wet and cold, inside barrels of wine, being pushed by streams of water downhill. Nori couldn't be happier at that moment. The waiting was worthy - they were unharmed and left without raising any alarms. 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious to know your thoughts haha
> 
> Next chapter we'll have Bilbo answering some questions and some truths being revealed...


	8. Interlude II - Dwalin and Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He started thinking on the nights they sat, silently observing the dark, what he would regret not doing if he was killed at some point during their journey or by the dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that there is an interlude between chapters so I'm posting this one today and chapter VII on Wednesday lol
> 
> It's short but well, I have no other excuse besides wanting to write hehe
> 
> Enjoy

While Dwalin returned to camp, he wondered if he had been too harsh on the hobbit. It was hypocritical of him to tell Bilbo to take an attitude when he himself had been dancing around someone for more than a decade. That thief was insufferable - stealing his knives and disappearing at important moments only to return after with excuses. 

One day, Dwalin would catch him and - by Mahal, he didn’t even know what he would do to Nori. He assumed his post, a little far from the sleeping forms of the others. Dwalin had taken numerous turns to watch the forest. He figured since he wouldn’t be able to sleep, he could at least be useful. Today, it appeared to be a quiet night - not that it didn’t leave him feeling on edge because silence was even more difficult to see than noise. 

He was looking to his right when he heard a sound, much closer to him. Dwalin immediately raised his axe towards the font of the noise, ready to strike a hard blow. To his surprise, it was the thief. He too, having sensed Dwalin’s aggressive turn, was holding one of knives, ready to fight. 

Together, they slowly lowered their weapons.

“Can I join you?” Nori asked.

“Can’t sleep?” Dwalin said, noticing the dark circles under the dwarf’s eyes.

“No. This forest gives me the creeps.” He said, sitting beside him. “I’m not like my brothers who can sleep almost everywhere if someone tells them it’s safe.”

Dwalin nodded.

That started a routine between them. Every night - since both of them almost did never sleep - they would sit together to watch the eyes in the forest. Some days were quieter than others. When the silence was too much to bear, they talked. Anything was better than the unnerving stillness at the dark. 

“I didn’t know you had fought in Azanulbizar.” He said to Nori after hearing he had fought honourably before.

“Aye.” Nori told him. “I was a lad then, too young but I knew I wanted to follow Thorin whenever he went.”

Dwalin could understand the feeling. Since he had been introduced to him, the dwarf felt he was a king worth following. 

“Why didn’t you join the king’s guard after, then?” 

“Things were never simple.” Nori answered him. “Our mother passed shortly after giving birth to Ori and it became Dori and I’s responsibility to sustain the house. Father was killed in battle and there was no one to help us. You remember how difficult things were after that battle.”

“We were barely established in Ered Luin, and more than half of our kin had fallen at the hands of that filth.” Dwalin recalled.

“I tried to join the king’s guard then but things got difficult. I couldn’t stand seeing our table empty. Ori doesn’t know of this but that was why I started stealing. Once I discovered I had a talent for it, I didn’t stop.”

“Does Thorin know?”

“Yes,” Nori said. “He asked for my services more than once if you’re interested to know.”

Dwalin shook his head. He couldn’t really judge Nori. If his brother was in the same situation, he would’ve done the same for him - but in his case, his brother was much older and he already had a position at the court. Their house had never lacked anything, not even after Azanulbizar.

“You would’ve been a great king’s guard.” 

“Better than you, I bet.” 

Dwalin looked at him. Really looked at Nori. Mahal, Thorin was right to say that it was inconvenient. Since he had known Nori, he became an ever so constant presence at the back of his mind. He wondered if the thief felt the same. Probably. Mahal never created his children to suffer with broken souls when they had only half of theirs in their bodies.

He wasn’t the only one staring. Nori was studying him too. They were both idiots, Dwalin decided. Being on this quest was making him realize what was really important to him - his family and friends. Along with it, this thief that had in those long years stealthily made his way inside his heart. 

He started hating Nori - as he hated all thieves and dishonorable dwarves. He wasn’t sure when he started to become obsessed with him, talking for hours about what he would do if he ever put his hands in him. Then it became a game of cat and mouse - Nori always managed to escape in the last minute and Dwalin would curse his name out loud. 

Now, though, his feelings had changed again when he noticed they could - and most certainly would - die in this mad quest. He started thinking on the nights they sat, silently observing the dark, what he would regret not doing if he was killed at some point during their journey or by the dragon. He thought that he wouldn’t have regrets. He would die fighting and proudly. 

But, looking at his thief’s face, he found the answer to his own question. He would regret not saying anything to his One. He would regret it because he would never know if   
Nori would accept him and he wasn’t willing to die without knowing the answer. 

_To hell with it_ , he thought. Some risks were worth taking. 

And Dwalin closed the distance between them and kissed Nori.

His thief surprised him by bringing him closer, deepening the kiss. Dwalin smiled. It was good to finally be home in the arms of the dwarf who stole his heart.


	9. Part VII - Kíli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo drew a deep breath to calm himself, then he said:
> 
> “Alright. You want to know what I am. I’ll tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAA it's finally here hehehehe 
> 
> QUESTIONS WILL BE FINALLY ANSWERED!
> 
> I wrote this fic thinking only about this chapter - the rest is a bonus lol
> 
> I hope you guys like it and please comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Enjoy!!

They reached Lake-town by night the next day. It was a poor city, and the mist from the lake covered most of it in a veil, leaving a ghostly appearance in the people there.

The hobbit had been silent during the trip on the barrels - he ended up being the only one without a barrel. If Kíli thought it had been uncomfortable to travel inside it, he could only imagine what Bilbo had felt outside, having to hold firmly to Thorin’s barrel the entire descent. 

When they disembarked, Bilbo was wet, as all of them were, but he appeared to be the only one unfazed by the last events - he didn’t show signs of being tired, or even sleep deprived, nor he looked thinner, although he hadn’t eaten or slept during their forced stay at Mirkwood. To contrast, Kíli was tired. He looked for his brother, finding him unharmed, he ran to Fíli, giving him a tight hug. Being apart was one of the most difficult things Kíli had ever been through - since birth, they hadn’t spent a day apart, where one went the other followed. Their quest to Erebor had brought them closer, and he hated that a prison cell had separated them. Fíli looked tired too but happy to embrace him. They stayed in each other’s arms for longer than it was appropriated but Kíli didn’t care. When they parted, the others were throwing amused glances at them. Bilbo approached, unaware of the commotion. Various dwarves threw him sideway glances. 

“It’s impolite to stare, you know.” He said. 

“Of course we’re starring.” Glóin said. “You look like nothing happened.”

Bilbo blushed, but didn’t deny. Of all of them, he surely looked ready to face another adventure. Kíli was young and full of life, as well as his brother, and many times they had received complaints about their mischieves and being tireless. But even he had to admit that he had reached his limit at the elven dungeons, eager to find a place to rest. 

It didn’t take long and a man was instructed to set them at a house. What was given to them was a modest house - but compared to sleeping on the ground, their stay at the forest and the prison’s cells, this was the best they had since Beorn. Kíli was grateful, at least he would be able to have privacy with Fíli - a thing they hadn’t since the beginning, months ago. 

The company had barely entered the house when Bilbo turned to their guide.

“Where is the bathroom?” 

The man looked a little stunned by the abrupt request but he answered. 

“It’s on the corridor, last door to your left.”

Bilbo thanked him and started walking off.

“I need a shower.” He announced when he realized they were confused. “You dwarves should take one too. We stink and my nose is itching for the smell of soap. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

He left, leaving behind dwarves gaping at him. Kíli sniffed his armpit.

“I think he’s right.” He said, disgusted by his own smell.

“Of course he’s right.” Glóin said. “We haven't taken baths since Beorn’s.”

“I can only imagine what a nose sensitive like his is smelling right now.” Nori said. Then, he thought better. “Actually, no - I don’t want to imagine.”

Bilbo took his time in the bathroom. But once he was out, the rest of them had already decided an order to bathe. The hobbit waited for them at the fireplace. It took a while, they were many and the dirty was everywhere. Bilbo was fast compared to Balin - who had a lot of hair and beard that needed throughout cleaning. It was late when they finally sat down at the table together for a late supper. 

Even at the sign of food, Kíli noticed that Bilbo didn’t express much of a reaction. He hadn’t eaten since they started rationing food in the forest. He had tried to offer his food to the hobbit when he passed by his cell but he rejected every time - and Kíli noticed he had done the same when others tried to give him food. How he wasn’t hungry was beyond Kíli. He filled his plate with everything he could and devoured it along with others - finally there was meat, now that was a decent meal for a dwarf. He had seconds and thirds. The dishes were all clean when they finished. But he noticed their company, especially his uncle, were looking at the hobbit with worry between bites. Bilbo had taken his time - he waited for them before filling his plate. He ate with calm, savouring the food. 

“What?” He asked. “I can feel you looking at me.” 

“Aren’t you going to eat more?” Fíli asked.

“I’m feeling full, but thank you.” 

Ori let a humourless laugh.

“How can you be full if you almost didn’t eat?” 

“The lad is right, Bilbo.” Óin said gravelly. “You haven’t been eating properly since the forest. You’re going to be  
malnourished - if you aren’t already.”

The hobbit paused. He laughed but stopped when he realised they were being serious.

“You’re joking, right?” He tried. 

“No, Bilbo. We aren’t joking.” His uncle’s grave voice resonated through the room. “You’ve been starving for weeks. This is not the time to joke about it.”

"Alright." Bilbo said. “I’m not starving, I swear - Óin can even look at me if it’ll ease your minds. I told you, I can survive without food for longer than you.”

“Aye. But nobody survives that long.” Dwalin said. “It ain’t possible.”

Bilbo was at conflict with himself, Kíli could see. He pondered about what to tell them.

“I-” He said. “How can I say it? I’m not exactly normal?”

“Yes, that we noticed.” Glóin stated.

“No, that’s not it. What I mean is- I could- I have, once, spent more than years without eating or drinking anything. It doesn’t affect me - not this few weeks. It’s nothing for me. Really.”

“Years?” Bombur asked, perplexed.

“Yes.” Bilbo affirmed. “So don’t feel bad, I’m alright. You can stop worrying.”

“I think it’s too late for that, lad.” Bofur responded. 

Bilbo huffed. 

The hobbit finished and went to sleep soon after, claiming he was tired - but Kíli doubted it was true, he suspected he had only said it to not have to listen to their worries about his health. But if his plan was to go unnoticed by their healer, he was much mistaken because Óin followed Bilbo to check on him. The old dwarf returned to them, who were all concerned. He had a disbelieving face and declared, loudly: 

“By Mahal, that hobbit looks more healthy than any of us. How he does it, I don’t know.”

Reassured, Thorin suggested they slept - it had been a long journey and tomorrow they could share stories, when feeling more rested. Dismissed, Kíli joined Fíli in their bedroom. There, alone for the first time, he embraced him for a long while. Fíli seemed to need the closure as much as he. When he fell asleep, his dreams were pleasant and he rested well - attached to the hip with Fíli, his favorite place in the world, he felt secured and loved.

The next morning found them without their burglar. Bilbo had left early, having warned them at supper that he intended to look for a new stick to buy - Fíli had laughed at him saying that he didn’t need a stick if he had managed to survive the elven palace. Bilbo retorted to him that the stick wouldn’t be to guide him but to hit annoying dwarves like him - making the entire company laugh at his brother’s betrayed look. During breakfast, Thorin decided to hear their stories about what had happened.

“Since our burglar isn’t here, I want to hear what happened after I was captured.”

The dwarves were more than happy to tell him about Bilbo’s battle with the spiders and his spying in the elven dungeons - they took turns telling their points of view. His uncle listened, not interrupting. When they finished, he had a thoughtful expression.

“How big were the spiders?” He questioned.

“They could carry Dwalin without trouble.” Balin said.

“Aye. At least the size of a pony, or bigger.” Bifur completed in khuzdul.

“How many did you say that Bilbo killed?” Thorin said, doubting the hobbit.

“At least twenty, from what I saw.” Dwalin responded. 

“Aye, I saw it too.” Glóin told him. “Looked like a warrior.”

“He came back for us. I have no idea how, though.” Fíli said. “He was in a different part of the forest and without his stick but somehow he found us and saved us.”

“It was impressive.” Ori added. “None of us could move because of the poison but Bilbo was there like a wall, not letting the spiders come close to us. He was trying to gain time for us to run and refused our help.”

“No wonder nobody has ever tried to take the Shire.” Bofur said. “If this is what a blind half trained hobbit can do.”

“Angry too.” Fíli said. “He looked really mad while cutting the webs. I don’t want to get on his bad side.” Several of them nodded in agreement.

Nori let out a dry laugh. They turned to him, confused.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” the dwarf asked, deadly serious. He had their undivided attention. “He’s not a hobbit.” 

“What?” Kíli asked. 

“This is going to sound really mad but,” Nori told them, “he’s not a hobbit. It’s complicated but I discovered it when we were trying to come up with a map to escape the dungeons.”

His uncle had a grave expression. “What happened?”

“When Bilbo came to me, he was using his magic ring to disappear.” That was no news. “He still had to find some of you but before he left, I asked him if he would be able to draw a map from the place, to plan our escape. He said no but that he would return with paper and pen and help me to draw one. Nothing strange until here - he’s blind.” 

“When he returned, I opened the door to him and we sat together on the floor to start the drawing. Bilbo told me he could ‘show me what he had ‘seen’ of the place, if I wanted. I agreed.” And Nori was having difficulties in expressing himself.

“What happened?” Kíli asked, feeling apprehensive.

“He entered my mind.” 

They gasped. 

“How? Is this possible?” Ori asked.

Nori nodded.

“He touched my face and suddenly I was trapped in my own head. It was all dark and silent, and I couldn’t get out - I panicked. But then I heard a voice. It wasn’t like Bilbo’s. I really don’t know how to describe it. It was ancient and deep, like it belonged to a huge creature. It talked to me, commanding me to obey it.” He paused. “I realized it was Bilbo, somehow he was that strange presence. He calmed me, and slowly, I was able to concentrate to receive his memories. I saw what he had ‘seen’ if that makes sense.”

“What did he show you?” Balin asked.

“His perspective of the palace and the dungeons, I saw even you in your cells. It was a mix of sensations, feelings and smells. With that I was able to draw a map.”

“I never heard of this kind of power.” Bombur commented when nobody spoke.

“It wasn’t the only time, though.” Nori confessed. “He entered my mind again when he found the exit. This second time, his presence was a lot more heavy and his shape immense - I couldn’t see him because shadows were surrounding him but I could feel him. When he pulled me back, I asked if that was him - that huge thing.”

“What did he say?” Kíli asked.

“He said ‘yes’. That it was complicated - but that he was a hobbit for the time being.”

The company was silent after Nori had finished, breakfast forgotten. It was Balin who broke the silence a few minutes later.

“That explains a lot.” He shared a look with Thorin, who nodded his permission to speak. “At Bree, Thorin asked me to spy on him. To make sure he wouldn’t talk about our quest. But I didn’t remember that night the next morning when Thorin asked for a report - it was gone from my memories. Later, I discovered what I had forgotten - that he was blind.”

“Like those elven guards.” Fíli linked.

“Aye.” Balin proceeded. “That mist - whatever it is, made me forget completely about our encounter. I suspected he used it on me again when he called me to talk.”

“But why would he do that?” Kíli asked.

“I think he didn’t want us to know that he was blind.” Bombur said, making everyone look at him. “At least not too soon. We would have sent him home.” 

“I-” Ori said but stopped abruptly. 

“What is it, Ori?” Dori turned to him.

Ori shook his head and pointed at his mouth.

“You can’t speak?” Ori nodded. “The hobbit did this to you?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re speaking again.” Dwalin pointed out, confused.

“Yes, but not about-” His voice gone again.

“You can’t speak about something.” Nori tried to understand. “And it has to do with Bilbo.”

Ori nodded. “But he explained it to me.” 

“What did he tell you?”

“I can’t talk about it unless he lets me.” Ori said. “He-” No voice came out. The dwarf tried a few times without success - he opened his mouth but no sound came out. He gave up. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s more than suspicious.” Dwalin said. 

“What should we do about it?” Bifur asked.

All eyes turned to Thorin. He took his time thinking.

“We wait for him to arrive. We can have our answers then.” He said finally. “We can’t dwell on conjectures. He has proved to be helpful until now - he didn’t abandon us when we needed him. Bilbo has gained the right to explain himself, it will be only fair.” His uncle looked like he dared someone to disagree.

No one did. Kíli could only hope Bilbo had an explanation for his actions or else he wasn’t sure he would remain a member of their company for much longer.

\--.--

Bilbo took his time to return. It was way past lunch when he climbed the stairs and entered. Kíli noticed he had bought new clothes and a stick. Bilbo was perceptive enough and immediately sensed their somber moods and became serious. He put his stick aside and joined them at the table. 

The silence could be cut with a knife. It was awful because Kíli liked their hobbit. Bilbo was their saviour - he had been a good friend to them. Even his uncle had been charmed by his manners and humour. He had healed them, helped, become part of their company in these last few months. 

On the other side, he also had been secretive with many things. Which brought them to this situation - a real mess that could turn the tides against Bilbo very quickly if the dwarves thought him false.

“Something happened.” Bilbo questioned. 

“Master Baggins.” Thorin said. Kíli wasn’t the only one to notice the formal address. Bilbo flinched almost imperceptibly. 

“We shared tales about your deeds earlier. We realized that some of your abilities were used in members of this company.”

Bilbo was still. 

“We want to know your own version first - without lies or half truths.” Kíli could see Bilbo’s expression turning clouded at each word his uncle said - like he was being hitted by physical blows. 

“Very well.” And these words had cost a lot to come out of his mouth. 

“Do you deny you have used your magic in Balin, Ori and Nori?”

“No, I don’t.” Bilbo was maintaining a calm face as he talked. “I made Balin forget that I was blind in Bree.”

“Why?” Balin asked him.

“You reacted badly to it and I suspected you would tell the entire company, without giving me a chance to explain myself. This would cause problems. Gandalf had said he would vouch for me when he was trying to convince me to go with you but I knew I would have been expelled from the company at the time - I hadn’t really known you and you treated me like an outsider. This - my blindness - would be the perfect excuse to get rid of me.” Bilbo said sadly. “I told you, people react badly. They only see it - they can’t see that I’m more than my disability.” 

The hobbit was right - in Bree, he wasn’t even spoken to. They wouldn’t hesitate to annul his contract and send him home, thankful for getting rid of what they considered a nuisance.

“I made you confused a second time when I called you to talk privately. I knew I had to resolve my issues with you - it was clear that you were aware that I had done something. Since I couldn’t alter your mind to fix the problem, I apologized. I was quite vague, to not let you remember the previous conversation at Bree. You were suspicious and I had to make you susceptible to accepting my apology.”

Bilbo looked regretful. 

“I didn’t want to have done it in the first place. It had been a long time since I interacted with a group for an extended period of time. I thought that I could manipulate you to accept me without becoming the center of the attention. But that’s not an excuse.” 

“What about me, Bilbo?” Ori asked.

“I’m sorry Ori. You can speak freely, if you wish.” 

“Oh.” He said. “It’s like- I was carrying a burden.”

“Yeah, secrets are heavy to carry.” Bilbo said. “Ori was bound to secrecy for the same reason - at Rivendell, he discovered about me.”

“But Bilbo, I told you I wouldn’t speak about it.”

“I know - but you don’t understand. You heard my conversation with Elrond and Gandalf, Ori. There were things there that you shouldn’t have listened to.”

“I don’t understand it, Bilbo. You were talking about reading - how’s that a secret?”  
Kíli saw Bilbo exhale hard. 

“It’s not that. Well, it is but-” He cut himself.

“What is it then?”

“I am only able to read things that are possessed by me.” He clenched his jaw. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dwalin asked, losing patience.

The hobbit closed his eyes. “It means it has to become part of my hoard.”

Kíli didn’t understand. In fact, he was even more confused. Hoard? Possession? What was Bilbo talking about? Was that some kind of secret wizard language? But Nori seemed to have understood. He turned to Bilbo like he had seen a monster.

“No.” Nori said, a haunted look on his face. “You- It can’t be.”

“I’m sorry, Nori.” Bilbo told him, like he was calming a frightened animal. “I swear it’s not like what you’re thinking.”

“I’m lost.” Kíli interrupted. The others looked confused too. “What are you talking about?”

Bilbo closed his mouth, his expression resigned. He was looking down. 

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.”

Nori let a maniacal huff out. “Too late for that.” 

“I will explain everything but I want you to promise to listen to all I have to say first. You have to listen before trying to kill me.” 

“Can’t promise it,” Nori said.

“Then I won’t tell.” Bilbo said serious.

“You won’t? I’ll tell them myself!” Nori told him angrily.

“No, you will not, _Nori_.” And his voice had that unnatural tone again. “You will not speak a word until you calm yourself. You will not threaten me, _dwarf_.” 

Nori went rigid. His mouth closed and he was forcibly relaxed. Kíli saw his eyes, wide and afraid. He was just starting to understand that Bilbo wasn’t an innocent hobbit - quite the opposite in fact, he looked dangerous. 

“I’m sorry, I-” Bilbo said. “You can’t speak like this, Nori. Not to me. It’s- Nevermind. Please, I just want you to listen to me. I promise I’m not dangerous. Not to you. You must know I wouldn’t-” 

Kíli saw the control Bilbo had over Nori’s body being released. He immediately tensed. He looked around the table and observed the others taking in slowly the power the hobbit seemed to possess with only his voice alone and a few commanding words. The company was tense, and the air around them was filled with uncertainty - no one said anything, waiting for whatever explanation Bilbo would offer.

Bilbo drew a deep breath to calm himself, then he said:

“Alright. You want to know what I am. I’ll tell you, from the beginning.” He said nervously. “I...am a dragon.”

\--.--

Silence. Completely and utter shock.

“What?” Bombur asked incredulously.

“I am a dragon.” He repeated. “Born and raised as one.”

“But- How?” Bifur said. “You’re a hobbit.”

“That’s the funny part, isn’t it?” Bilbo tried to lighten the room. His smile died soon enough, though. “I was cursed, a long time ago and since then I’ve been a hobbit.”

“This is a joke, right?” Fíli said.

“No, I’m afraid it’s not, Fíli.” Bilbo told him. “I’m sure you all have questions.”

“You bet I do - by Mahal Bilbo, what do you mean you’re a dragon?” Bombur asked.

Bilbo exhaled.

“You remember the story I told the elves about Morgoth?”

“You’re Ancalagon?” Kíli exclaimed.

“Valar, no!” Bilbo said. “I would be dead if I were him. No, I’m telling you that Morgoth created me - along with others of my kind.”

“Morgoth...created you?” Ori repeated.

“Yes. I was the third dragon he ever gave life to. The first of my species, in a way.” He explained.

“First?” Bofur inquired.

“Yes. You see, I’m no fire-draker like Smaug. Or a cold-draker. I am a smoke-breathing dragon. That means I can breath smoke, obviously, or mist. It is usually deadly for anyone who inhales it.”

“You used your mist in us.” Fíli said. “How are we alive then?”

“That’s a little complicated for you to understand because it’s a matter of will from my part but, to put it simply, since I was the first smoke-breathing dragon, Morgoth gave me many abilities to defend myself and destroy others. My mist can have many purposes, it is toxic in a way to have an effect but not necessarily to kill. I can pass unnoticed, cause confusion, erase memories, disguise my size, and kill obviously. And I discovered quite recently that I can involve others in it.” He finished, looking sheepish.

“You mean you didn’t know if it was going to work with the guards?” Ori asked.

“I suspected it would.” Bilbo replied. “But it’s not like I’ve ever tried. I don’t exactly go out on adventures during my free time. I am a respectable hobbit - or I used to be one.”

“You’re not a hobbit.” Nori said, accusingly.

“No, but I have to be most of the time. Besides, I’ve been a hobbit for more time than a dragon at this point. I probably would have to relearn how to use my wings if I transformed again. But, back to the point: if it hadn’t worked, I had a plan b to use that would definitely work so you wouldn’t be recognized in any way.” 

“What was plan b?” Kíli asked.

“I would make you part of my hoard. My mist would definitely hide you then. Hoards are special things - once possessed, it can’t be taken easily and it’s under protection of the dragon - in my case, I would be able to shape you into what I wanted. Not literally but to others’ view, you would never be seen.”

“Have you ever possessed a hoard?” Dori questioned.

“Yes.” Bilbo replied. “But not of people. When I was a dragon, I was like Smaug - my hoard were treasures, precious jewels. And I’m not proud to admit today that I killed many to steal gold.” He told them. “When I became a hobbit, I had to stay at Rivendell for months - I had to learn how to walk-”

Kíli couldn’t hold back his snort. It was something so like Bilbo, to be irritated by not proper things and focus on this part instead of the huge news he just dropped on them about his true nature. Perhaps he really was more a hobbit than a dragon, if he was more concerned about complaining of things that happened long ago and not even considering that he still had to gain the company’s trust all over again. 

“You can laugh all you want but try to be up on your two feet when you’ve been using four to walk and wings to fly for the better part of an age - it’s not easy to find balance, I fell on my face more than you can count. I normally can’t be hurt by weapons and when I am, I heal, but I swear my face was purple by the end of the first weeks.” He smiled at the memory. “My manners were terrible too - I hissed at everything and even being half of their height, I was incredibly arrogant - Elrond heard a lot of my insults back then. I still have troubles with it - if I smell a threat, joking or not, I react badly. It’s instinct. Not that I’ll do anything serious about it, not these days. I’ll just...well, I’ll tell the person to stop talking so things can’t get worse.”

“There’s one thing you didn’t tell us.” Nori said, interrupting Bilbo’s ramblings. “How you got cursed.”

“Oh, that.” Bilbo said. “I fought in a war.” He said. “I don’t know how much you know about the War of the Jewels?”

“That was the story you told the elves.” Dwalin said. 

“Yes. Well, it was a pretty big war - even Sauron fought in it.” Bilbo told. “Ancalagon died in it as you know. I fought under his command - he was...well, I suppose you wouldn’t understand but- he was the greatest dragon to ever exist. I was proud to fight by his side. But things started to become complicated when he was slayed. Eärendil killed many of us that day - I was gravely injured and fled, but I knew I wouldn’t live for much longer. It was just to not give the satisfaction of falling before the enemies.” He said, voice distant. “Gandalf found me weeks later, agonizing. When he had raised his sword to slay me, Valar interceded. He offered me a new life, an opportunity to change, but I would be forever cursed - blind in this hobbit form, so I would not crave riches and learn how to see value in small lives.” 

Bilbo laughed drily. 

“I don’t think it was a good choice of curse because I found out I enjoy a bit too much being a hobbit.” He said. “From time to time, Gandalf visits me to see how I fare. The first times I complained a lot. But after I got used to the Shire, I wouldn’t leave it.”

“Why did you come with us then?” Thorin questioned, serious.

“Well, I…” Bilbo said uncertainly. “The irony is not lost to me - slay a dragon and side myself to dwarves. But I think that, in the end, Gandalf was right. He told me that I was becoming my other self, the one I gave up a long time ago. My hobbit hole had become my hoard, you know? That’s why I was so annoyed with you there, invading my possessions. I almost hissed at Gandalf - and I hadn’t done it since I left Rivendell the first time. He asked me ‘since when have your things become more important than people?’ and I didn’t know how to respond to him, because he was right. I was tuning into my old self again. I had spent so much time by myself in my home that I was forgetting the important things. Gandalf said that going with you was ‘an opportunity to prove that I had truly changed’, and he was right - it felt right, going with you, I mean.”

“That’s deep.” Bofur said after a while. 

Bilbo nodded. “Yeah.”

“I don’t want to believe in you but it makes sense. Your story and why Gandalf would choose you.” Dori said.

“Gandalf,” the hobbit said, “has many good intentions. I know he has more motivations to support this quest than what he lets us know. What I don’t like is to be forced to reveal myself. It would come to this point sooner or later but that wizard is not even here to vouch for me.”

“You’re lucky then that we decided to listen to the entire story.” Óin said. 

Bilbo smiled but it did not reach his eyes. 

“I wasn’t worried about you not listening, Óin. I was- I am worried about you.” He said. “If you do not accept me anymore, what chances do you have against the dragon? Worse, if you decide to attack me I-”

“You’ll what?” Nori asked, defying. 

“I would probably react badly and I don’t want to have to stop you.” 

“You can’t fight us all, can you?” Kíli said. “You’re a hobbit right now. Aren’t you cursed?”

Bilbo didn’t look at them when he answered. 

“I may be a hobbit and unwilling to change my form but make no mistake, Kíli. You can only kill me with very specific weapons which are lacking around here.”

“An arrow.” Fíli supplied. 

Bilbo nodded. “Not any arrow though. I really shouldn’t say this but it’s not like it’ll make a difference.” He paused. “Only steel forged in Mordor can hurt me. Or weapons blessed by Valar - and I think you have neither.”

Kíli swallowed. What kind of dragon was Bilbo to not be hurt by black arrows as they were common weapons used to slay creatures like him?

“So if we fight you, you just won’t die?” Fíli asked. 

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. You’ll annoy me and I’ll probably have holes in my clothes but apart from that you won’t hurt me. I heal fast Fíli and I’m afraid there’s no limits to it, at least not that I’m aware of.”

His brother didn’t reply and Kíli saw all of them thinking and weighing the words. 

“I know it’s a lot.” Bilbo said after a while. His tone was tentative. “You don’t have to accept me but...I still would accompany you to the mountain. It’s what I agreed to do and it’s only right if I fulfil my contract.”

He didn’t linger after that. Bilbo got up and took his things that he had purchased from the market. He went to his room but returned shortly after, carrying a ragged bag. He placed it on the table.

“I almost forgot this. It’s from Thranduil’s treasure. I thought it would be a good idea to have some coins since we would be in a town.” The hobbit started to go to his room when he turned back to them. “I know it probably won’t make a difference but I’m not that dragon anymore. It’s not a life I wish to lead anymore, there’s only blood and greediness. It’s lonely and...not kind.”

He was gone then.

It was a long time before someone spoke again. 

“I like Bilbo.” Kíli declared. “He may be a dragon but he’s still our hobbit.”

“I wish it worked like that, lad.” Balin said. “But we have to consider he’s an enemy like Smaug. His kin is responsible for our people’s suffering.”

“I know, but ever since we met him, he didn’t do anything to harm us. He took care of us and put himself in danger to protect us. He may have manipulated things a little but he was only protecting his secret.” 

“That may be the truth but we can’t trust him, can we?” Nori said. “How do we know he won’t ally himself with Smaug and kill us all when we reach that mountain?”

“We won’t.” Thorin spoke. He had been quiet the entire time and Kíli had even forgotten that his uncle was there. He had an indecipherable expression on his face and held everyone’s attention. “This is the point. Tharkûn and the elf lord of Rivendell trust him. The wizard can be many things but I doubt he would conspire with the enemy. Bilbo is not what we expected, but Gandalf chose him and he has proven himself more than once during our quest. It may cost us our lives to bet on him, but so is facing Smaug without tharkûn or an army.”

“I hope you’re right in this, Thorin.” Dwalin said. “Who would’ve thought that Mahal has a sense of humor?” 

Thorin didn’t answer but Kíli’s mind made the connection. 

“You were trying to court him,” he said. “That means...Is he…?”

His uncle didn’t reply and his silence was confirmation enough for them. 

“Well, that’s certainly…” Balin couldn’t finish.

“Unexpected.” Óin said. 

“We should rest.” Thorin said, not wanting to dwell on the subject. 

Slowly they went to their rooms. 

Kíli stayed up all night thinking, unable to rest. His brother was just like him by morning - tired and anxious. At breakfast, the silence was strange. Gone was their animated chat and the friendly manners they had between them. Bilbo was the last to emerge from his room and he looked as if nothing had happened but by now Kíli knew better than to judge him for his appearance - he would always be composed. 

“May I sit?” He asked. 

“There’s a place beside Óin.” Dwalin informed him and Bilbo sat.

“Won’t you eat?” Kíli asked. 

Bilbo shook his head. “I-”

They all turned to him when he did not finish.

“It’s probably for the best if I mention that I may have overheard you last night?”

“You did?” Ori asked.

“I can hear the entire city and more so…” 

“Oh.” 

“I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t sleep and I went for a walk but still. My mind was focused on your voices.” 

“That’s bizarre.” Fíli said. 

“It’s not. There are many more strange things I can do that would fit better on bizarre.”

“Such as?” 

“Smaug.” 

The company tensed. 

“What about him?” Dori asked.

“I can smell him from here and hear him breathing.” Bilbo told them. 

“So it is true then. The dragon is alive.” Glóin said.

“You can hear him from here?” Balin asked. 

“If I focus my hearing, yes.” Bilbo said. Then he continued. “Smaug is alive in that mountain. Sleeping, probably buried under that pile of gold. His scent is mixed with it. It is...well, I won’t lie, it’s enticing. But it’s not the point. What are you going to do about him?”

“What do you mean?” Kíli asked.

“Am I to join you?” He asked, neutral. 

“Can we trust you?” Thorin asked. And Kíli heard the unspoken question, _can we really trust a dragon?_

“Yes.” The hobbit answered.

Thorin didn’t say anything else. 

“We won’t kill a dragon just to have another taking the mountain again, will we?” Kíli said to Bilbo, trying to distract the mood, which had turned from tense to awkward. 

It worked. The hobbit laughed. 

“Maybe.” He told, becoming serious again. “It will depend if the gold is cursed or not by him.”

“Cursed?” Kíli asked.

“Yes. Dragon spell - it can manifest in some forms. A person can become a puppet of the dragon, even a dead one, and would become like one - aggressive, protective of the gold. Or even, it could cause gold sickness, which I believe it’s not entirely the dragon’s fault.” He turned to Thorin. “Your grandfather had it, didn’t he?”

He nodded. “He became greedy and a shadow of the man he was. His most valued thing became the Arkenstone. It attracted the dragon.” 

“That’s gold sickness to you. Dragon’s are not immune to it, in fact, quite the opposite. We are drawn by gold.” Bilbo said. “But there are ways to rid oneself of it. At least I think it’s possible, from what I learned.”

“Will you tell us?” Ori asked.

“Hm, the first would be for the person to find love. It’s quite poetic, actually. You have to find a love for which you would give up everything for. If you love another more than gold, you’ll be free of dragon sickness. The second form I know, is more aggressive. Dragons can remove it from a person - not that it ever happened. It can be done by entering the mind of the person, possessing him. The dragon can gradually remove the greediness. Then, it’s just a matter of leaving the person’s mind.”

“I can see why that never happened.” Balin commented.

“Yeah.” Bilbo agreed. “I told Nori, at the dungeons, that entering another’s mind is not easy - and I, as all dragons, know most things to be used for cruel purposes. I played with minds before, made puppets. It was fun to do it. That’s why I warned you, I could’ve messed with you.”

“I think you did, actually.” Nori told him. “When we were escaping. I felt linked to you, somehow.”

“I pulled you.” Bilbo concluded.

“I don’t think you realised at the time.” Nori said. “Then it passed and we were on the river and I didn’t have time to mention.”

“I’m sorry, Nori.” 

“It was strange feeling you in my mind but not being there completely.”

Bilbo had a tentative smile on his lips. 

“Wait.” Kíli suddenly had an epiphany. “Was your name always Bilbo?”

This time the tension was completely broken and an easy air surrounded them. Dragon Bilbo Baggins. That was definitely not a dragon’s name.

“No, Bilbo Baggins is my hobbit name - Gandalf chose it.” He said. “But if you must know, I was called Dandryth, Bringer of Death by Morgoth.” 

“That’s…” Bombur said.

“Yeah, you can imagine why I needed a new name for my hobbit form.”

\--.--

By dinner time, they had become more comfortable with Bilbo. He was filling his plate with green things and talking.

“You know, when I had my first hoard, I was so paranoid about leaving it out of my sight that I didn’t eat or drink for a good hundred years or so.” He commented.

“Weren’t you hungry?” Bombur asked, a look of horror of staying that much time without eating.

He chuckled. “I was asleep so no, but I had to wake up, eventually.”

“What happened?” Fíli asked.

“Well, let’s just say that the food was delicious after so many years without it.” He looked sheepish.

“How much can a dragon eat, anyway?” Ori asked. He had his book with him, having spent the afternoon questioning Bilbo about all sorts of things.

“Hm, quite a lot, Ori. I ate the entire…” he stopped himself. “Sorry, it’s not a subject for dinner.”

“We don’t care, Bilbo.” Fíli said. 

“Not at all, when we’ll have an opportunity to talk to a dragon?” Ori assured him.

He looked embarrassed. 

“In this case, please remember that I was different then.” 

“Okay?” Ori said.

“I ate once an entire city of dwarves. It was called Sharbhund, I believe.” He confessed. 

“You ate-” Fíli started.

“Our people.” Kíli finished.

“Yes.” Bilbo said. “If it’s of any consolation, they were delicious?” 

“You’re lucky you saved us or else I would murder you for this.” Dwalin said. 

“Sorry.” 

“How big are you exactly?” Balin questioned. 

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I?” Bilbo said. “When Morgoth made us, he created great creatures, so we would be able to continue the species. I’m the smallest among my brothers but I’m still bigger than other dragons.”

“So, you’re almost the size of a small mountain.” Glóin concluded.

“I am.” Bilbo continued. “But I’m not exactly sure - everything is tiny compared to me. That’s why I don’t think it’s wise to transform - one of the reasons I hadn’t since I was first turned into a hobbit. There is simply no space on Middle Earth anymore for creatures like me. I am the last of three and I belong to another age. All of the other dragons are descendents and smaller - much smaller.”

“That is- I can’t even imagine a dragon as big as you’re saying you are.” Balin said. 

“I could show you, if you’re curious.” Bilbo said. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Really? Can we see you too?” Kíli said in unison with his brother.

He nodded. 

“But,” he raised a finger. “I’ll only show you if you stop calling me Master Boggins in front of strangers. If you don’t, I’ll turn you into my puppets and make you stay quiet and unmoving for a decade at least.”

Kíli whined. 

“We promise Bilbo.” His brother said. 

“Alright. Come here then.” They moved to the fireplace since the meal had finished. Bilbo sat down along with them. “Is there anyone else who would like to see? I promise not to look at anything else in your minds.”

Ori and Dwalin joined them. Everyone turned to Dwalin.

“Dwalin?” Kíli asked. “I thought you didn’t like dragons.” 

“Aye, I don’t.” He said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not curious. I want to see for myself if our burglar is not exaggerating.”  
Bilbo huffed, pretending to be annoyed.

“Alright. I’ll start with you two first, then Ori and Dwalin.” Bilbo said. “Deep breaths and remember, I’ll pull you out, don’t worry.”

“Pull us out of-” Fíli didn’t have the chance to finish. Bilbo had already touched his face. Kíli was going to finish his brother’s question but the hobbit was faster, caughting him.

Kíli found himself in a dark place. Void of everything. 

“Bilbo?” He called. “Are you there?”

He was starting to feel panic when a presence settled inside his mind. Heavy and big. But he couldn’t see because darkness enveloped it. Must be Bilbo, he thought. 

“Come closer.” The voice said. It was like Nori described. Ancient and deep. Kíli thought it was also resemblant to a powerful thunder. He wanted to run but he knew his fear was just a natural reaction. _This is Bilbo_ , he told himself, _he will not hurt you_. 

He gave tentative steps towards the voice and the darkness slowly dissolved into a thick layer of mist. He started seeing shapes and contours of it. Big didn’t summarize it. Bilbo was really monstrous in his shape. Then his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he saw parts of the dragon shine in gold, as if bathed by it. His blackness was beautifully weaved in golden specks. His face was gigantic, and Kíli could see the hard mail of his skin. Bilbo exhaled a breath of air and the dwarf was pushed behind by the force of it. 

Kíli felt his amusement. “Ha-ha, very funny, Bilbo.” 

He opened his mouth, enormous teeth sharp and cutting. 

“It is funny.” He said, amused.

Kíli was amazed by him. He looked up and saw no end of him. He tried to notice details about this beautiful cold blooded creature, so lethal and powerful. Bilbo opened his eyes and Kíli understood why dragons could enthrall people when looking at them. Bilbo dragon’s eyes were the same green color, intelligent and intrinsically his - the young prince could see the hobbit he knew reflected on those old eyes. They were looking at him, gauging his movements. He raised his hand, so slowly, as if unsure of how to touch him. Bilbo closed his eyes and moved almost imperceptibly, closing the distance between them. 

His skin was soft and rigid, like mithril, cold to the touch. Close like this, Kíli could see the tiny veils of golden decorating the scales. He was the most impressive thing the prince had ever seen. 

“Time to go back, Kíli.” Bilbo said. But it wasn’t the deep voice Kíli had heard before. And he turned to look at where the dragon was but he had vanished, his mind was light again. 

He opened his eyes next. Bilbo was looking at him with a kind smile on his face. 

Kíli noticed his hobbit eyes didn’t hold the same bright glow as before. Such beautiful eyes, unable to see. 

“Well, what did you think?” He asked. 

“You definitely are bigger than I imagined.” His brother answered without missing a beat.

He laughed. 

“Okay, I see I have caused an impression.” He declared. “Move you two so Ori and Dwalin can sit here.”

They obeyed. The company stayed up until later, talking. Kíli was lying down on his brother, listening to a story Bilbo was telling them. Fíli was running his hands through his hair, and Kíli let his eyes wander. He noticed Dwalin leaning towards Nori and quickly touched his brother on the knee. Fíli looked at him and he pointed to them with his eyes. 

Fíli was just surprised as he was. That development was new. Well, Kíli had always heard that the lines between love and hate were blurry...No one else seemed to be aware of them. Maybe they hadn’t told their families? Or perhaps they weren’t even aware of it themselves. He wouldn’t say anything then, it wasn’t his place. But he would start bets on them - he was a prince not a role model of manners. And he was sure Fíli would support it.

He let his eyes stray from them and he ended up observing his uncle. Thorin had been strangely calm with Bilbo’s revelation. He remembered his uncle's awkward attempts of courting their burglar. He had spent hours with his brother muffling their laughs at him. Wait until they could tell their mother about it - she would lecture Thorin for his terrible manners.

The sad part was that apparently Bilbo hadn’t corresponded. Could it be because he was a dragon and not a hobbit? But Kíli remembered quite clearly how much Bilbo had blushed when Dwalin made him practice a movement that ended up with him pressed to his uncle’s chest. Bilbo had avoided him like plague after - visibly embarrassed. Looking at Thorin now, he could see the longing in his eyes. He had found his One in Bilbo, Kíli was sure of it. The only question was if Bilbo returned his feelings. Things could be quite different with dragons.

But maybe not all was lost to Thorin, after all. Bilbo hadn’t even once initiated a conversation with him since their arrival in Lake-town. He hadn’t even dared to turn to him unless called. Even now, Bilbo was pretending to not be aware of his uncle. Well, wouldn’t it be fun if his uncle disposed of a dragon only to end married to another?

When Bilbo finished his story, which Kíli had to admit, with his mist creating an illusion of sensations and feelings, was pretty incredible, the dwarves started to retreat for the night. Their burglar lingered but it didn’t fail to escape him that he followed Thorin to his bedroom. When Kíli turned, he saw his brother smiling smugly at him. Yeah, time to make more bets and by the looks of it, Fíli was thinking the same as him. 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter I wrote...(─‿‿─)
> 
> Well, I do hope your expectations were fulfilled - it was so hard to find a balance between their reactions and shock
> 
> I'll post next chapter on Saturday/Sunday 
> 
> Have a wonderful week guys! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡


	10. Part VIII - Glóin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What about you, Bilbo? Do dragons have soulmates? Or hobbits?” 
> 
> Bilbo turned red. Most of the company was paying attention to their conversation at this point. None more so than Thorin. Their burglar seemed unaware of the stares, being embarrassed as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking that I won't have time to post this weekend so why not post sooner? lol
> 
> Enjoy and please don't mind the trash part *hides in a corner*

The Lonely Mountain was a sight to behold. Tall and imposing it stood there alone in all its mighty. The base was covered in mist and Glóin could only see the top. It did not matter. He was truly impressed by it - and wasn’t alone in his admiration. The company was silent, gazing at it in awe. Thorin had a look of finality, of being home. And Glóin couldn’t deny, even he who wasn’t born in Erebor, felt at home just from looking at the mountain from a distance. They were, at last, on the final part of their journey. After all troubles and misfortunes that encountered them, they were here. 

Glóin had grown up hearing his brother Óin and their father telling stories of the glory days of Erebor. The dwarven realm was like no other in Middle Earth, a rough jewelry sculpted in rock. But being here, he could see that no story would do it justice. He wondered that if this was only the outside, what treasures could this mountain hold inside - he couldn’t even start to picture the piles of gold lying inside it.

“Gimli would love to see this.” He said to Óin while they were setting camp on the shore.

Óin nodded distractedly, gaze still on the mountain.

“Aye.” He said. “The lad will be disappointed to miss it. I had almost forgotten how big it was.” 

His brother had a dreamy look on his face.

“I will have to ask Ori to make a drawing for him later.” He said. “It’ll take a while for them to move here.”

“You have a son, Glóin?” Bilbo asked, he was behind him, helping Bombur with dinner. It was clear he had listened to their conversation.

“Aye.” Glóin said proudly. “My lad is tough and very brave. He insisted on going on the quest with us but I wouldn’t let him. He’s too young for it.”

“Mom didn’t want us to go either.” Fíli said, entering the conversation. “She said it was too dangerous and we’re too inexperienced. We wouldn’t be allowed to go if it wasn’t uncle’s idea to take us with him.”

“They had an argument about it. He didn’t let her talk him out of it. At the end, she wasn’t happy but there was nothing she could do.” Kili popped in.

“She can protest but you are both of age and capable of making your own decisions.” Glóin told the boys. “My lad, on the other hand, is still far from being an adult.”

“How old is he?” Bilbo asked.

“Sixty-two.” Glóin responded. “He’s old enough to start training with weapons - but I would never let him fight in battles, even when younger lads than him have. And if I had taken him and something happened, Nora would hunt my body just to kill me again.”

“Nora is your wife?” Bilbo asked. He was uncertain since dwarves were very private with personal information. But he had become part of the company so Glóin considered him almost an honorary dwarf, even if he was a hobbit dragon. He clearly didn’t want to offend him by asking and for that, Glóin would tell him about his family.

The dwarf smiled. “Aye. She is a jewel among dwarven ladies, her eyes like sapphires and hair like fire.”

“Mahal, not again.” He heard several of their company complain. But he didn’t mind them. Bilbo seemed genuinely interested so Glóin sat down with him to talk. 

He dug out his medallion from under his shirt and showed Bilbo her picture. “What do you think?” And the hobbit didn’t even blink upon seeing the beard.

“She’s lovely.” He ran his fingers through the pictures, with delicacy. “Is the lad Gimli? You two are alike.”

“Aye. I’m afraid he has my temper and colouring as well.” He said looking at the medallion. “I miss them every day. I have never traveled this far and stayed away from them for so long.”

“It must be difficult.” Bilbo offered. “How did you two met?”

“That’s a funny story. I met my precious Nora when we were trying to settle down in Ered Luin. My father worked as a sword-smith and I used to run errands for him, delivering weapons.” He told Bilbo. “I saw her passing carrying bread in a basket down the street. And I thought she was the most beautiful lady I had ever seen. I chased her and proposed right there.”

“What happened?” Bilbo asked.

“She hit me in the head and left me there.” Glóin answered. It was one of his fondest memories. “I heard her cursing at me. I got up and tried to follow her but she shouted at me and told me to never approach her again.” He smiled at the memory. “It took five years for her to agree to be courted and more ten for us to marry. My beautiful stubborn Nora.”

“I didn’t know dwarven courtship was that long.”

“Aye. But she refused to let go of her pride for me that’s why it took so long. Usually most courtships take five or less years to be complete. My Nora made me prove myself many times before she accepted me. I, on the other hand, was certain that she was my One.”

“Your One?” Bilbo asked.

“Aye. Dwarves are made from rocks and our souls are divided sometimes. We found our Ones, the person whom we share a soul with. But not all of us have a One, it’s more common than you can imagine. This is why many of us dedicate our lives to a craft.” Glóin explained. “What about you, Bilbo? Do dragons have soulmates? Or hobbits?”

Bilbo turned red. Most of the company was paying attention to their conversation at this point. None more so than Thorin. Their burglar seemed unaware of the stares, being embarrassed as he was. 

“Well, hobbits don’t have Ones as far as I can tell. Many of them marry for love and have many children. It’s not common to be a bachelor - I’m called selfish for it because I have quite a wealthy life and many matrons tried to marry me off to one of their daughters.” He told Glóin. “As for dragons...it’s complicated.”

“How so?” Kíli asked. 

“Well, we don’t - at least the ones created by Morgoth, like me - need a partner to reproduce.”

“You mean you can have children?!” Fíli asked. 

“Eggs. And yes, if I wanted to.” 

“But you didn’t.” Nori stated.

“No.” He agreed. “It’s complicated - raising little dragons. You need a hoard really big to hatch the eggs and be there all the time. And it doesn’t hatch like chicken eggs - quickly. It can take decades to hatch one single egg. Then there’s the matter of security. Many try to steal the eggs because of myths. When they finally are born, you spend a long time teaching them, and if they’re born with wings you have to teach them to fly - which is dangerous because the scales aren’t hard yet and they’re an easy target.”

“Wow, I didn’t know it was that difficult.” Bofur commented.

“Yeah.” Bilbo said. “As for the matter of partners, it’s even more - dragons are greedy and I find that stepping on another’s hoard is not that easy to, you know, mate.” 

“But you can fall in love, can’t you?” Kíli pushed.

Bilbo turned even more red than before. Glóin thought that just a little more and he would faint.

“I think so?” He said.

“You don’t know?” Glóin asked.

“I mean- I’ve never. I didn’t think much about it before.” Bilbo replied. 

“Why not?” Bombur asked kindly.

Bilbo exhaled hard. 

“Can you imagine if I fell in love with someone? I am a dragon, I have completely strange habits and my lifespan is like an elf’s - I won’t die unless killed. Loving another from a different species would be a tragedy not a love story. Besides...who would want to- Would you marry willing a greedy monster who decimated cities and allied himself with Sauron?” He asked, daring any of them to contradict him. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t either.”

They went quiet with his answer. It was obvious that Bilbo was venting his frustrations. He seemed terribly lonely and sad, in Glóin’s opinion - he knew a broken heart when he saw one, and their hobbit was laying bare his for them. 

“I’m sorry.” Bilbo apologized. “I- It’s not that I don’t want to.” He said timidly. “It’s just that it’s not viable for me. I thought about it before, ages ago but I can’t. I just think sometimes that part of my curse is to be eternally alone. I’ll have friends but not...” 

He looked completely heartbroken, the opposite of his cherry self. 

“I'll take watch tonight.” He declared, getting up. “You can eat without me, I’m going to take a walk.” 

Bilbo took his stick and walked off from their camp and mist followed him, making his shape blurry and distant. Glóin felt a heavy layer being lifted from his shoulders - Bilbo must’ve been unconsciously letting his temper affect his surroundings, including the company. He looked to others and found them slowly being free from the effects too - all but one. Their leader had a hard frown on his face but his eyes betrayed him, wet and longing. 

\--.-- 

Glóin noticed that their burglar remained more quiet the next day. He had a sombre look on his face and he didn’t talk or joined conversations unless spoken to and even then he gave short answers. His dark mood didn’t affect the company, though. They were excited to be so close to the secret door. Thorin appeared happy too but he kept looking over his shoulder to Bilbo. 

Mahal, was this how he had looked like to Nora - like a kicked pup? In that case, he understood now why she had resisted him for so many years. 

It was strange to walk in the open like this, Glóin felt exposed - at what, he didn’t know. The path was devoid of life signs, not even plants or small animals inhabited the place. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bilbo putting a hand on the ground, feeling it, his eyes closed in concentration.

“What is it, Bilbo?” Ori came closer to him. “Did the soil tell you anything?”

“Oh, no. I’m just feeling it. It has so many deaths here - even the earth is not alive. I think Greenwood will become like this if the elves don’t do anything about it.”

Ori noded. 

“You can hear it, can’t you?” 

“Smaug?” When Ori nodded he answered, “yes, I can.”

“Does he-”

“Know that I’m here?” He asked. “Yeah, probably.”

“You don’t seem worried.” Glóin joined them.

“Oh, I am but not about him. I’m more concerned about you.”

“We? But we’re not the problem. That damned dragon is.” Dori said.

Bilbo laughed. 

“You haven’t been in a real battle before, have you?” And he raised his hands in a peace gesture when many of them started to protest. “I’m not trying to insult you - any of you. But what I meant is that you never have been in a dragon’s battle before. It’s not with the dragons you have to worry about. It’s the size and, in Smaug’s case, his fire and in mine’s, the smoke.”

“You think it’s better for us to hide.” Balin concluded. 

They had been walking steadily for hours since sunrise. Glóin was still amazed by the view, which became clear the more high they climbed. The air was cold and he was tiring from the pace Thorin had established for them. 

“I don’t think it’s better - I know it is. And if he goes flying, I fear for the people in Lake-town.”

Balin nodded. He must be thinking about the day when the dragon came. From the ruins in the city, his destruction was massive. Glóin noticed that even the sky here seemed to be lacking in natural light. A darkness shadowed the Lonely Mountain and its surroundings. The company covered a lot of ground that day - Thorin expressed his worry with the date and the murmurs of complaint with the hard pace were silenced. They were all tired but they needed to push themselves if they wanted to find the door.  
Bilbo seemed unconcerned about it. Probably because he could break the front gates with his claws. They ate fish but the hobbit refused to eat again. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to eat, lad?” Óin asked. 

“Thank you, Óin but I want to feel hungry for the next few days. Don’t worry.” 

“Why would you do that?” Dwalin asked. Bombur looked horrified with the comment, as he always did when it concerned food and the lack of it.

“Makes my senses sharp, among other things.” He shrugged.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Dori told him. “That thing when you’re hiding something or being mysterious on purpose.”

“Ah, well.” He looked embarrassed. “It’s not a thing to talk about over food.” 

“You told us you ate a city of dwarves while we were eating, Bilbo.” Nori said. “Whatever it is, I think we can stomach it.” 

“Okay.” Bilbo said. “I’m eating less since I left my home because I suspected Gandalf wouldn’t be here to help us. I know that wizard and he always disappears in important moments. So, I’m absolutely starving, especially for our encounter with Smaug.” 

“I knew hobbits ate more!” Kíli said. 

“Yes. Seven meals a day, usually.” 

“What? Where does all that food go?” Fíli asked. “Do you do anything in the day or just eat?”

“Very funny, Fíli.” Bilbo said flatly. 

“You’re starving just to have your senses more sharp?” Dwalin asked incredulously.

“Ah, not exactly.” He blushed. “I’m really hungry right now. And…”

“So?” Glóin asked.

“We’re going to kill a dragon. Or I am - whatever comes first.” 

Glóin blinked, realisation shocking him. 

“You’re going to eat the dragon?!” Ori exclaimed.

“Well...When you put it that way, it sounds bad.” 

“Of course it’s bad! It’s a worm!” Bombur said.

“I think on the other side.” Bilbo said. “What are we going to do with the body after it’s killed?”

“Burn it? I don’t know. I’m more worried about surviving without dying.”

“You do realise that if things get out of control, I could just move you all elsewhere, right?” The hobbit said. “And his body won’t burn. He breathes fire from inside of his body, and doesn’t get burned. Do you think a fire colder than that would be able to turn him to ashes?”

They hadn’t thought about that. It made sense, a lot actually. 

“So your solution is to eat it?” Kíli asked, disgusted. 

“Yes. After all, when I finish with him, you’ll have a big problem in your hands.” 

“What problem? The mountain will be ours.” Dwalin said.

“Me, of course.” He said evenly. “I will be famished. And I don’t think you’ll have enough food to feed me - since I don’t plan to eat any of you, I’ll have to contempt myself with a dragon, won’t I?”

“I can’t decide if you’re threatening us or joking.” Dori said, voice wavering.

“Don’t worry. I’m on your side.” Bilbo smiled showing his teeth. “Anyway. It’s late and I’ll take watch, if you don’t see me, I’ll be walking around.” 

Glóin watched him walking off. 

“He is giving me the creeps.” Dwalin said. He looked serious, though.

“Aye. But I think that’s what he meant when he said he was weird. He’s a dragon - he thinks differently, after all.” Óin said. “And by the looks of it, he has a dry sense of humor.”

Glóin was a little perturbed by the idea of seeing a dragon eating another dragon but if that would solve their problem, who was he to judge it? He was happy enough to let Bilbo do whatever he wanted with Smaug’s carcass. 

When they went to sleep, the dwarf saw Thorin staring at the distance. He hadn’t spoken much, except to give orders to the company since his attempts to get closer to the hobbit. Glóin was observing him when Thorin caught him staring. He signed and made a beeline for him. They sat in silence for a while. Glóin thought that offering emotional support to their leader wasn’t in his contract at all. Still, he could feel empathy towards the dwarf, he had been the same way when trying to gain Nora’s affections.

He thought about what awaited them at those mountains. He hadn’t been eager to join Thorin’s company from the beginning. Glóin had a family to sustain and being apart for so many months was difficult for him and for them. He always enjoyed fighting, being a sword-smith and all, but he wasn’t impulsive in his decisions. He had been one of the first to be asked to go and the last to reply. 

He was, admittedly hothead - with a reputation of having a temper but that was with things such as his work and the forges. He fought sometimes at bars and enjoyed throwing his fists on others but that was it. Accepting to become part of a suicide mission was another matter entirely. Nora had convinced him, though. She knew of his wish to give them a better life and when the opportunity presented itself, she encouraged him to take it. 

It wasn’t that they had a bad life in Ered Luin. His family always had enough - Glóin made sure of it. But it wasn’t glamorous with so many families of dwarves cramped in one place together. Business was enough but not extraordinary - there were only so many swords people around him would need. He was starting to consider the quest when Nora encouraged him and his brother Óin came to their home to talk about Erebor - he privately thought that they might have conspired against him. His brother retold all of his childhood stories about the glory of the Lonely Mountain and the treasures buried inside.

Gimli listened too and by the end of it he was asking if he was joining the quest and if he could come too. It was impossible to tell him no after that. Glóin had no choice but to join Thorin’s company and now he found himself sitting with him, looking at the sky and admiring the night.

“Have you talked to him?” He asked Thorin.

“I have not.” He said.

“You should.” Glóin told him when Thorin turned to face him. “We are a few days from entering the mountain. It’ll be not long before we finish our quest. He won’t have any reasons to stay if you don’t give him one.”

“I know.” He said. 

“Why haven’t you, then?”

Thorin didn’t answer for a long time. Glóin thought he was ignoring the question and was ready to retreat to his bedroll when he heard him.

“Do you think he would accept me?” He asked. His voice wasn’t insecure but Glóin recognized the fear all the same. It was always a possibility to be rejected, even by a One. There weren’t many cases of it but it still could happen. Thorin’s case was even more delicate, they both seemed to want the same thing but with few misplaced words, Bilbo could have the wrong impression - and their leader had a way with words that Glóin was sure it made Balin’s work a real painful headache. 

“I think that you can’t know unless you try.” Glóin replied. “And it’s always worth trying, even if it takes time.” 

\--.--

They pushed themselves so hard that they arrived early at the doorstep. It was boring to fill the time and agonizing all the same. When they first arrived, they almost didn’t sleep that night, trying to locate the entrance but now that they had found it, the company had nothing to do except be facing each other.

One of the afternoons, he noticed that their leader had disappeared. No one had noticed yet. Glóin went to check with Balin before raising alarms.

“He went to talk with Bilbo.” Balin answered his question. 

“Finally.” Dwalin said, interrupting them. “It was past time for those two.” 

“Aye, it was.” Balin smiled. “Let us hope they return with good news.”

It was late and the company was already dining when Thorin returned, alone. All eyes turned to him, expectant. He had a serious expression on his face but didn’t appear to be angry. His nephews didn’t wait for him to sit down before filling him with questions, forgetting it was a private matter - it didn’t matter because it would end up becoming gossip among them anyway. 

“And what did he say?” Kíli asked, expectantly. Glóin couldn’t blame the lad for his enthusiasm. The boys loved their uncle and Kíli seemed especially fond of the hobbit.  
Seeing that privacy was not in question for him, Thorin didn’t try to pretend to answer just for Kíli.

“He said he needs to think about it.” 

“What? Why?” Kíli inquired. “But he likes you!” 

“It doesn’t always work like that, Kee.” His brother said to him.

“Well, all things considered, it’s better than a ‘no’” Dwalin said. “He’ll come around. Eventually.”

At this moment, Bilbo appeared. He looked exasperated. 

“You know I can hear you talking about me, right?” 

“Aye. That’s why we’re talking.” Glóin said, without a trace of shame.

“You’re terrible. I don’t know why I put up with you lot.” He said, pretending to be angry. “I’m starting to consider abandoning you to Smaug.”

“You wouldn’t!” Kíli said.

“Oh, trust me, I would.” He said. “Then I would look for that blasted wizard to have words with him for sending me on a mad quest with a bunch of gossipy dwarves.” 

“Wow Bilbo, you hurt our feelings.” Fíli pretended to be hurt by dramatically touching his heart. 

“I should make you all silent for the rest of our stay here.” He murmured to himself. “You’re lucky I have self control.”

Thorin smiled at him. 

“I wanted to discuss our plans, that’s why I came here actually.” He told them. 

“What about them?” Dwalin asked.

“I can do everything alone but you have to be somewhere safe. And far away from the treasure hall.”

“We’re not going to stand waiting for you to fight for us, Bilbo.” Dwalin said, offended. 

“I know but I think it would be for the best if you did.” 

Dwalin looked ready to protest but Thorin spoke before he could.

“What do you have in mind, Bilbo?” 

“I don’t want to transform inside the mountain - I would cause more damage to it if I start a fight inside there. But I know he won’t come out unless we attract him outside. At the same time, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be in contact with the gold, at least not at first. I want to see if it’s cursed before you could touch or see it.”

“Will you be able to resist it?” Thorin asked, neutral. “You said yourself all dragons crave gold.”

“I think I’ll be fine. I mean, I went to Thranduil’s treasure hall and resisted it - I just stole a few gold coins to help us in our quest but nothing more.” He said thoughtfully. 

“But, in the worst case, I would possess the gold there as my hoard. While not ideal, I know you all and wouldn’t kill you for approaching there. Or taking a few pieces away.”

“You wouldn’t?” Balin asked, skeptical. 

“No.” Bilbo said. “I...You would be part of it too, in that scenario.” 

“Part of your hoard?” Ori said.

“Yeah.” He looked terribly flustered with the admission. “So I would protect you, not kill you.” 

“Well, if that’s not an assurance.” Nori said dryly.

“Anyway. I want your help to attract Smaug out of the mountain. You’ll have to distract him while I can transform. I imagine it will be faster than the first time but I’ll still need all the time you can give me.” 

“That we can do.” Glóin said. 

“You’ll have to hide when I fight him.” He told them. Dwalin was ready to protest but Bilbo raised his hand. “I am being serious. I can’t be worried about you suffocating with my smoke and fighting at the same time. Smaug will notice if I’m distracted and he’ll look out for you. And then I won’t be able to protect you from his fire.” 

“That makes a lot of sense.” Dori commented.

“I fought in wars before, it doesn’t end prettily for small beings.” Bilbo warned them. “I can protect and even heal you but I can’t afford to be distracted. And it’s not just you. There’s Lake-town to consider too. Those people don’t deserve to die just because I was careless.”

“Bilbo is right. We must be careful.” Thorin agreed. “We’ll do as you say and wait before entering the treasure hall.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo said. 

“Will you really eat Smaug?” Kíli asked.

“Yes, and a few dwarves too if they don’t stop being curious about my love life.”

“Ouch.” 

\--.--

Durin’s day was finally upon them. Glóin could feel the excitement and the nervous energy that was taking the company. This was the day - it could end terribly and in death for them but he decided to follow Bilbo’s example. The hobbit looked calm and composed. He had itchy hands but apart from that, he was completely unaffected by the anxiety around him. 

They were waiting until the last light of Durin’s day by recapping the plan again. When it was about midday, Bilbo asked them to all sit together to eat. He told them a story about his time in Rivendell and his mist involved them, letting their nerves more at ease. It was a funny story. Bilbo told them how he had to learn how to take baths - “dragon’s don’t bathe Kíli, we’re like domestic cats” -, and how he learned Sindain and studied the books, having never read in his life. He told about Gandalf and how the wizard managed to sneak upon him, causing him to fall from the ladder in the library, taking the whole shelf with him. 

He made them laugh and forget about the door and what waited for them inside it. Glóin was thankful for it. He relaxed as he hadn’t in days, tension had creeped on his shoulders without him noticing it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Bilbo was saying goodbye to them, in a subtle way. 

Glóin didn’t have time to dwell on it for long because sunset had arrived and they collected their things, and climbed the stairs on the great dwarf rock sculpture to reach the promised door. They looked expectant and even Bilbo appeared excited. Thorin was starting to become impatient and with the night falling, his mood was gradually becoming dull, a frown forming in his forehead. 

He had just turned his back to the door, giving up as many of them already had, when Ori exclaimed:

“It’s here!” He shouted, animated.

They immediately turned back on their feet and Thorin rushed by Ori’s side, taking out the key from his neck. He put the key in the hole and opened the door. Silence and dust greeted them in the empty corridor of Erebor. Without making noises, they entered, one by one. Tension filled the air around them. 

“He knows we’re here.” Bilbo broke the silence.

“Is it coming?” Thorin asked beside him.

“No, he’ll wait to see if we’ll go to his hoard.” He informed them. “I’ll go see him.”

He turned to Dwalin, the closest to him, and handed him his stick. He was leaving then but Thorin caught his hand. Glóin and the rest of them pretended they didn’t see what happened next.

“I- Be careful.”

Bilbo smiled. 

“You’re joking right? I can’t wait to see Smaug.” He said. Then, more serious, “Thorin, I’ll be fine. Worry about you, not me.” Seeing that the dwarf was still not letting him go, Bilbo gave two steps towards him, went to the tip of his toes and kissed him on the cheeks. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

Thorin blushed hard, even the beard couldn’t hide it. He watched Bilbo going away and didn’t turn to them. Glóin heard muffled laughs and the distinct noise of purses filled with coins being tossed. Trust dwarves to make bets about their leader. When Thorin was able to turn around, he still didn’t look composed, in fact, far from it. Glóin didn’t blame him. It was amusing to see the oh so regal Thorin Oakenshield looking so flustered by a single kiss on the cheeks. When it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything for a while, Balin took action. 

“We should go, Bilbo is counting on us.” He said.

Thorin snapped out of his daydream and moved with them. 

They were scattered around the place in strategic positions to attract Smaug outside. Glóin was accompanied by his brother, Óin. They passed a lot of skeletons and decomposed dwarves’ bodies on the way. Some of them were of dwarves running away from the treasure hall, with possessions in their hands. In his brother’s stories, he almost never spoke of the day the dragon had come and Glóin had never imagined that Erebor could be this cemetery of bodies, still screaming for mercy on their lives. He had it pictured as a glorious city and a mighty dwarven kingdom but he had forgotten it was in the past. All that was left of it were the ashes and bones of those who perished that day. 

He then heard the sound of a monstrous voice, coming from far, at the treasure hall. Bilbo had awoken Smaug. 

“Who are you, thief?” Smaug’s voice was a roar in that empty place.

They couldn’t hear Bilbo’s reply but he guessed it didn’t make the beast happy.

“You dare to come here to take my gold!” Smaug said. “But you’re not alone, are you?” 

That was the part they had been planning for. They knew the dragon would smell them, and had been counting on it. 

“What are you?” Glóin heard - Smaug was angry now. 

There was a sound, a huge growl and the smell of smoke in the air. Glóin could only hope Bilbo knew what he was doing or he would be incinerated by now. He felt tremors on the floor - the dragon was coming in their direction. He and his brother prepared to run. A heartbeat later and Smaug appeared, walking toward them like a serpent chasing their prey. He and Óin started running. The dragon laughed at them. 

“Run, dwarves!” He told them. “I will kill each of you like your little hobbit.”

Glóin almost stopped at that but his brother took his hand and pushed him to continue. He had to believe Bilbo wasn’t dead - they had to. Their mission was to run and irritate Smaug, giving time to Bilbo. He heard a sound of air being sucked and realized what Smaug intended to do. He and Óin moved to a pillar at the same time fire erupted from the dragon’s mouth. 

They waited and then started running again, until they reached the forges. The others were already there, ready for him. Smaug barely gave them time to hide when he breathed fire on them again. They made for the forges, trying to roll the big cauldron on him. Thorin and Dwalin called his attention while they worked desperately to make it loose enough to roll over. Glóin was praying to Mahal that Bilbo was ready because he wasn’t sure they would be able to keep diverting the dragon’s attacks coming on their way. 

They managed to, just barely, and Óin called, loudly:

“Oi! You piece of filth, over here!” 

Smaug turned to them, raising his arm, his elongated claws coming in their direction to kill them. They jumped at the same time he was almost touching them, making him give the final push on the heavy cauldron. It rolled in his direction and that was the distraction they needed to start running again, this time towards the outside. They reached the same corridor they used to enter and one by one they exited the mountain. Bilbo was nowhere in sight but Smaug was - he broke out on their right, bringing the statue down. This was it. They had no plan left. Smaug turned to them, his face getting closer and Glóin could see the flames starting to form in his throat. He closed his eyes, certain of his death.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha I'm gonna leave you with this cliffhanger
> 
> I see you all on Tuesday/Wednesday since I don't have any control and always end up posting sooner than expected


	11. Part IX - Fíli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo’s head was low. 
> 
> “Are you regretting it?” Dwalin asked. 
> 
> “A little, yes,” Bilbo told them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring:  
> \- BAMF dragon fight  
> \- Guilt  
> \- Thorin being reasonable  
> \- Thorin being Thorin  
> \- BAMF Bilbo taking no shit from Thorin

Fíli felt the entire mountain shake with the loud sounds of steps. A shadow covered the light of the day suddenly. He looked up - above them was a dragon, more imposing and ferocious than Smaug. Their hobbit was no longer, in his place, a creature that belonged to another age, with a stature so giant that not even great armies would dare to face. The winds turned, a storm was forming above it all. The heavens assumed a darker tone, thunders and lightning reverberating until the city of Lake-town. This was no more a simple attempt to slay a dragon, it had become a battle of giants and Fíli felt terribly misplaced in all that fury.

Smaug was no longer concerned with them, instead he was looking at his kin, gauging his movements. Fíli was frozen in place along with his friends, he didn’t know what to expect from this clash. He barely blinked his eyes and Smaug had advanced towards Bilbo, climbing the mountain like a snake, his belly illuminated with red flames. He breathed fire at Bilbo and Fíli gasped, the smoke impeding his vision. He was unable to see clearly but they felt it - the clashes and roars of two monstrous beings with hard scales, sharp claws and piercing teeth. 

“I am fire.” Smaug shouted. “I am death!” 

And fire descended upon the black golden dragon. Smaug was in the sky now, overflying the mountain and he looked furious. Fíli thought they would die out there, not having listened to Bilbo’s warnings about hiding - paying the price for it as the flames consumed everything around them. He held his brother’s hand, preparing for the worse but it did not come. Above them, an enormous black shape, taking the damage in their place, its body a shield from certain death. 

“Go inside!” Fíli heard the monstrous voice ordering. 

They started entering the mountain again and Fíli threw one last glance at the fight in front of him. The black golden dragon caught Smaug in middle air, and buried his claws deep inside one of the dragon’s legs, and he used his strength to push him down, making the entire mountain quiver with the force of his fall. Smoke was leaving his mouth and then Fíli was pushed inside of the mountain once more by his uncle, the door closing behind them. 

His eyes took a while to adjust the darkness inside the hall. They could hear the fight outside, its sounds echoing and shaking the entire place. Fíli desperately wanted to see what was happening but none of them could even think about going outside now - the air was poisoned and it would kill them. He went to his brother’s side and hugged him tightly. This was the most terrifying day of their lives. Their hobbit had been right, a fight between dragons was no place for dwarves or any other small beings. It was terrifying. He had seen Bilbo before, when he entered his mind during their stay at Lake-town. What he hadn’t paid attention to was his size - in the dark, Bilbo had seemed endless. Now he knew how small Smaug was compared to him. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a scream of pain and one thunder, the heavy fall of Smaug’s body on the ground, lifeless. They heard winds passing violently through the small holes on the construction and then silence. 

They listened and a sound similar to a scratch, but much louder, at the stone where it was the entrance. Thorin moved first, walking to the door, opening it carefully. He was greeted by a black claw which soon retreated, giving view to the tallest dragon alive in all Middle Earth. Dandryth, Bringer of Death, was an appropriate name for such a creature in front of them. His mouth was coated in blood as well as his claws. Fíli and the rest of the company slowly walked out to see the scene before them. Smaug was laying on the snow, a steady flow of blood from his neck, no longer attached to his head, which was under the black dragon’s paw. It was nauseating to see, and the smell was putrid. 

It inclined its head, as if smiling amused and in that moment he looked more like their hobbit whom they had come to know along their journey than the terrible creature capable of killing violently one of his own kin. He didn’t look like he minded the blood around him, nor the smell. His green eyes threw a glance at them, as if asking _“do you mind?”_ and he lowered himself to start devouring the still warm flash of what was left of Smaug. 

Fíli had to physically stop himself from throwing up - he wasn’t the only one. At least, by the time Bilbo finished, they wouldn’t have to worry about the smell anymore. He turned to Kíli, a silent conversation passing between them, and together they entered the mountain again. The others soon followed.

That night, they made camp inside the mountain and away from the treasure hall. Fíli slept by his brother’s side, a dreamless night awaiting him.

The next morning, there were no signs of a black dragon, only a gentle hobbit in its place. Bilbo woke them up before the sun rose. He was dressed in his clothes, that had seen better days, but he was covered in filth and blood from Smaug. He looked weary in a way that they had never seen him look like before.

“I don’t suppose there’s water for a bath near here?” He asked. 

Glóin and Dori shook their heads. 

“Well, I expected that.” He said. “I think this time I’ll accept Óin’s services.” 

“Were you hurt?” Thorin’s voice was filled with concern.

“A little.” Bilbo told him, but his head was down, as if ashamed. “Nothing serious but I don’t want it to get infected. Other dragons are one of the few things that can hurt me and my healing isn’t fast enough for dealing with it.”

“Come here, lad.” Óin called him, having taken his supplies out. They had barely started the day, but Bilbo didn’t appear to know that it wasn’t properly a day yet. He was disoriented and his shoulders were filled with tension. 

He sat beside the healer and took his shirt off, a lot of dried blood on his torso - not his though. The first touch of Óin made Bilbo growl low in his throat. The healer halted, unsure of continuing or not. When it became clear that the hobbit wouldn’t move, Óin returned his ministrations - he cleaned their burglar the best he could with their limited situation. An opening in his chest was revealed, an angry cut from his chest to his belly. Thorin exchanged a look with Óin and the older dwarf shook his head, it wasn’t life threatening, a little just too deep and if not treated correctly, it would cause serious problems. Óin was ready to sew him up but Bilbo stopped him.

“I don’t need stitches.” His voice was strange.

Óin normally didn’t allow his patients to order him - always the other way around but knew better than to argue with Bilbo in his current state, so he set to work, covering the wound with medicine and bandages. Bilbo hissed several times and growled, voice oscillating between a hobbit’s and a dragon’s, in pain. 

“You should rest Bilbo.” Thorin said kindly, when Óin finished and moved to put the supplies away. 

“I can’t.” He replied but offered nothing more. 

“But Bilbo-” Kíli started.

Their hobbit turned so fast that for a moment he didn’t appear to be Bilbo, but his other self, defying and dangerous. If Fíli hadn’t seen the injury, he would never think he was hurt. Kíli stopped middle sentence. 

“I’ll go now.” Their hobbit declared, daring someone to contradict him.

“Where are you going?” Dwalin asked, not caring that he was testing Bilbo’s temper, a note of worry in his question. 

“To see the treasure.” He said, decisively. “It’s better if we resolve this matter sooner rather than later.”

“You can barely stand, Bilbo.” Thorin tried to reason with him but received a growl in response - the hobbit’s stance was ready to attack. His uncle gently stepped towards the hobbit, his hands raised in a peace gesture. He was careful to not make any abrupt movements to not startle him - like he was approaching a wounded animal. Bilbo maintained his position as Thorin got closer but he didn’t attack or growled. 

“Let me help you, _ghivashel_.” 

He touched Bilbo and he relaxed slowly, turning back to his hobbit self. 

“Thorin, I-” 

“I know.” Thorin told him lightly. “You need to rest.”

“I’m sorry, I…am not myself.” He commented weakly, his voice was less tense and the first signs of tiredness manifested.

Thorin guided him back to their improvised camp. He maintained a protective hand around Bilbo. He looked at Fíli and he immediately set Bilbo’s bedroll on the floor. He kindly helped Bilbo to lay down. 

“Rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Thorin reassured him.

He didn’t protest, letting himself be guided to lay down. Bilbo was out like a light. He slept peacefully. The company watched him while they ate breakfast and changed for the day. It was strange to see Bilbo act so harshly when he had been a gentle soul for the most part of their journey. But not always, Fíli thought. They had seen glimpses of his dragon self, whether aware or not, it had been there, under layers of his hobbit character. 

“What should we do now?” Nori asked when they all finished, eyeing the hobbit.

“I need to find a crow to take a message to my sister and Dáin - if we want to secure the mountain, we’ll need help and I hope that I’ll have the arkenstone by the time they arrive here.” Thorin told them. 

“We could start cleaning the rooms.” Bombur suggested. “And find food too.”

They nodded. It was the sensible course of action.

“I don’t want to risk anyone coming closer to the gold - Bilbo was worried for a reason, we should not separate.” Thorin said after a pause. 

“Aye.” Balin agreed. “I think it would be for the best. Óin can watch him to make sure he doesn’t need anything.”

Óin nodded. “I’ll stay with the lad. If he starts acting strange, I’ll call for you.” 

“Why is he like this?” Kíli asked. “He never looked this aggressive.”

“I don’t think he was doing it consciously, Kee.” Fíli said.

“I don’t know many dragons lad, but they aren’t usually friendly.” Óin said.

“Do you think he’ll try to attack us?” Ori asked. 

“It’s hard to say.” Óin answered. “But Thorin managed to calm him just fine.”

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Nori said. 

Then, Thorin divided the dwarves into three groups. He went with Dwalin and Nori to look for a crow and the second group of dwarves started cleaning the rooms and getting rid of the remains of the inhabitants. They decided that to avoid the temptation of the gold, they would remain on the opposite side of the mountain and would not wander alone. Bombur, Bofur and Bifur were the only ones who went a little further from them, to the kitchens to start cleaning down there. 

Fíli and his brother stayed together and cleaned almost all morning - Fíli felt particularly grateful for the privacy. They stopped for a quick lunch with the others. Bilbo was still out, sleeping - he hadn’t even moved. 

“Is he okay?” Fíli asked. 

Óin nodded. “I suspect that with his belly full, he won’t be waking up too soon.” 

Thorin seemed worried but he didn’t say anything. If Óin said Bilbo wouldn’t wake up by now, they would trust him. They returned to work after. When they reached the room they were cleaning, Fíli told his brother:

“This place is really huge, Kee.” 

“You bet. Where do you think it’ll be our room?” 

“I don’t know - probably in the royal apartments. Where it is I don’t know.” He told him.

“Do you think we could see uncle’s rooms?” Kíli asked.

“I haven’t even thought about it. But now that you mentioned, what do you think it has there?” 

“Maybe his toys from when he was a dwarfling?” Kíli asked, mirth in his eyes. 

“I can’t imagine uncle as a dwarfling. I think he was born old with a frown on his forehead.” Fíli said, laughing.

“Yeah. Maybe if we reach there first, we can look for pictures of him younger.”

“Oh, brother that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

“And every time he starts to lecture us, we can threaten to show his pictures to the whole kingdom!”

Fíli laughed. Kíli was really something else. They continued in silence for a while when Kíli told him:

“I can’t believe we made it, brother. I think after the goblin caves I lost my hopes of seeing here.”

“Yeah, it was like something was conspiring against us to not finish our quest.” 

Kíli made a noise of agreement. They cleaned what they could without appropriate supplies, that was the best they could do. 

“Do you think mother will like having a dragon in our family?” Kíli asked suddenly.

“Hm?” 

“Bilbo. Do you think she will like him?” He repeated himself.

“I don’t know. Kee.” He said, pensive. “If Bilbo was just a hobbit, I’m sure she would love him. But it’s complicated, isn’t it? For the company, to us, he is nice and a good friend. But I can’t imagine how others would react to him - and I bet that news from two dragons fighting are already flying around Middle Earth.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Kíli said, down.

“I think that’s why he waited so long to tell us he was blind and even longer to reveal his real self - can you imagine if he had told us when we met him in his house?” 

“We would’ve thought him mad.” Kíli answered with a smile. 

“That’s my point. I think that a lot will change since his secret is out but we can’t predict how it’ll change.” 

“We’ll be by side then.” Kíli said. “He’s almost family at this point, so we have to support him.” 

“Talking about family, in how much time do you think we’ll have a wedding?” He asked his brother.

“I don’t know - I think as soon as Erebor is clean enough and uncle will marry our hobbit with or without witnesses.” Kíli said laughing.

“You mean he’ll take Bilbo to his rooms and that’s it?” Fíli was laughing too. Kíli nodded. “Well brother, I think we should start new bets about it and since we’re here, we can bet higher sums. What do you say?”

“You’re on, brother.” Kíli replied, mischief in his eyes.

Night came and Bilbo remained undisturbed. They were all tired from the day before and cleaning had been a nice distraction. Fíli and Kíli didn’t pretend to go to separate bedrolls, opting to share one. Without their hobbit to cheer them up with stories about battles and adventures, the mood of the company was quiet, they weren’t worried with a deadline anymore and a dragon to haunt them. Next morning was slow to come. Fíli woke up first, with Kíli still in his arms. The company was slowly rising. He shook Kíli lightly and pressed a kiss to his cheeks. 

“Mornin’ little brother.” He murmured against Kíli. His brother opened his eyes slowly and smiled at him.

“It’s too early.” He complained.

“I think we can try to wake Bilbo now.” Óin’s voice said from somewhere. 

Kíli was awake in a second and if Fíli didn’t know any better, he would be jealous of his brother. But as it was, he knew Kíli considered Bilbo almost like an uncle, and if he was honest with himself so did he. 

The healer walked towards their sleeping hobbit. The rest of them were in various states of undress and some were rubbing sleep from the eyes and trying to eat the little food they had left without falling asleep again - the long months on the roads and facing all sorts of troubles was catching up with them. Even Thorin was looking sleepy, but he was instantly awake, his eyes falling upon their hobbit.

With care, Óin shook Bilbo a little on his shoulders. He didn’t move at first, but he slowly started to become aware of his surroundings again. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“How long was I asleep?” He said, disoriented. 

“A day.” Óin answered. 

“Oh, not much then.” He said, more like his gentle self. “What did I miss?” 

“Not much, we started cleaning and Thorin sent a message to his cousin and sister.” Ori told him.

He nodded. “I think I could sleep for the next decade.” 

“Let me see your wound, Bilbo.” Óin said, already removing Bilbo’s shirt.

“Do you want to eat?” Kíli asked.

“No, thank you. I don’t think I’ll eat for the next few years at least.” He said, helping Óin to take off his shirt. The healer started to remove the bandages and, while they were dirty with blood, Bilbo’s skin was unscarred, not even pink with the new skin. “I may have eaten too much.” He confessed, looking sheepish.

“You don’t say.” Nori said. “There’s nothing left of Smaug out there. Just blood on the snow.” 

“Not even the bones?” Fíli asked.

Nori shook his head. 

“But we could have kept the bones.” He said.

“For what?” Nori asked, confused.

“To show the visitors, of course.” 

Bilbo laughed. “I’m sorry, if you had told me, I wouldn’t have eaten them.”

“How did you even eat dragon bones?” Kíli asked.

“I break them with my teeth?” Bilbo said. “As I do with any food I eat?” 

“You’re weird, Bilbo.” Kíli told him.

He laughed again. “Not my fault you’re friends with a dragon. Our species are pretty different. For me, you’re the ones who are weird.” 

Óin deemed him healthy to walk around freely. Bilbo moved through his things, taking his less dirty clothes to put on. He was quiet and a frown had taken place in his usual merry persona. 

“What’s wrong, Bilbo?” Fíli asked him.

“Nothing, Fíli.” He gave Fíli a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. Fíli immediately recognized the lie. And the others did too. 

“Lad,” Glóin called him, “we know each other better than this. You can tell us what’s bothering you.” 

Bilbo exhaled and shook his head. 

“It’s really nothing.” He insisted. “Please, would you leave me be? Just for these few days. I promise I’ll be my usual cheery self soon.” 

Well, if that wasn’t an evasive answer, Fíli thought. It wouldn’t do. 

“You don’t need to sulk by yourself.” Fíli tried to brighten the mood.

Bilbo gave him a bitter smile but didn’t say anything. 

“I think I’ll give a look at the treasure today, if that’s alright with you.” He said. 

“Do you want company, Bilbo?” Ori tentatively asked. “We can wait for you outside.”

“I prefer that you don’t, Ori. But thank you.” 

He stood up, took his stick and walked off. When he was out of view, his brother asked:

“What’s wrong with him?” 

“I don’t know, lad.” Óin seemed at loss too. 

“Do you think he’ll tell us?” Ori questioned. 

“There are many things we don’t know about him, Ori. This appears to be just one more.” Bombur said to him.

They went to work after that. Bilbo would know how to find them if he needed. As it were, it appeared that he was content with being alone. Fíli tried to be more cheery to his brother, to distract him but his attempts were half heartedly at best, he was also worried about their burglar. 

It was night but Bilbo still hadn’t shown signs of returning. Thorin looked ready to lead a party to search for him. Dwalin stopped him, though. 

“Leave him be.” He told his friend. 

“If he doesn’t appear by next night, we’ll look for him.” Balin agreed.

“Do you think he transformed back into a dragon?” Dori asked. “He said it was possible.”

“I hope that’s not the case, Dori.” Thorin said. “Or we will have more problems to deal with.”

“Aye.” Balin said. “I don’t think any armies that are coming from Dáin could detain him if came to it.” 

“I didn’t know there were creatures so big like Bilbo.” Ori commented after a pause. 

“Smaug looked like an insect compared to him.” Nori said. “I thought he was joking when he said he was almost as tall as a mountain.” 

“So did we.” Balin admitted. 

Their hobbit didn’t return until the next night. His expression was still closed off, as if he expected to be expelled from the mountain at any moment.

“It’s safe to go there.” Was the only thing he said. He refused to sit with them. 

“But where are you going, Bilbo?” Bifur asked. 

“I’ll walk around the place.” He said and didn’t give them a chance to stop him, already gone. 

“Why is he like this?” Kíli asked. “We didn’t do anything, did we?” 

No one responded. 

\--.--

Bilbo returned at breakfast. 

“I’m sorry for how I’m acting, I know I’m being weird and you’re worried.”

“Will you tell us what’s troubling you?” Bofur asked gently. 

Bilbo tensed but he didn’t look closed off anymore. He appeared to be searching for words to tell them. It took awhile for him to find them.

“I killed Smaug.” He said. 

When he didn’t offer more, Glóin replied:

“You did.” He sounded confused.

“I never-” He stuttered. “Killed a…”

“Dragon?” Dwalin said gently.

“Yeah.” Bilbo’s head was low. 

“Are you regretting it?” Dwalin asked. 

“A little, yes,” Bilbo told them. “I don’t know how many of us are left out there. And I just- He would’ve killed you all and destroyed Lake-town but he...He was like me, you know? I was like that once. I caused a lot of destruction and pain too. And now all I can think about is why. Why me and not him? I mean, why do I gain the chance to be different and he doesn’t? I know you think he deserved to die but so do I. For what I did.”

“That was a long time ago, Bilbo.” Balin tried to reason with him.

“Yeah, I know. Still. Tumunzahar, Sharbhund, Nevrast and Dunédain don’t exist anymore because of me. They never recovered.” He said angry. “Smaug was young. He could’ve-” 

No one knew what to say to him. 

“I guess that’s what I gain from listening to Gandalf.” He said to no one in particular. “He was right, saying that I wouldn’t be the same after. I wonder if he planned this all along. At least they won’t knock at my door in Bag End when Sauron returns, afraid that I’ll change sides.” He said bitterly. “Because he will, one day. And I’ll be alive by then - and I’ll have to fight against him too, even though I won’t want to. Did you know he was nice to us, back then? He taught me many things, like dark magic. And then I’ll have to destroy his ring - and who knows? Maybe Valar will finally let me rest since he spared my life.” 

Bilbo vented his frustration on them. His voice was sad too, filled with regret. 

“I don’t think I like gold anymore.” He said after a pause. “It destroyed me once and now it made me kill my own kin.” 

“I’m sorry, Bilbo.” Thorin offered. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.” He said.

\--.--

Bilbo helped them clean. He stayed with Fíli and Kíli and sometimes he smiled at their attempt to cheer him up, but it never lasted for long. One of the pauses the company did for lunch brought bad news though. 

“We need to get food.” Bombur told them. “We ain’t got much left and I’m sure we don’t want to repeat the Mirkwood days.”

They all expressed their hums of agreement. Mirkwood was still a fresh memory for the dwarves. Fíli really thought they would die there, starved. 

“I can go collect food.” Bilbo offered. “I’m the only one who isn’t hungry and I can travel without stopping.” 

“I don’t like the idea.” Thorin said and their hobbit looked ready to protest when he added. “But I know you can take care of yourself.”

“That I can.” 

Bilbo left them that same day to go to Lake-town, his pockets filled with golden coins to buy them food. Thorin watched him part until he was but a shadow in the horizon. Fíli started to think that his bets on the wedding would not come true now. Bilbo was distant, like he was at the beginning of their journey and he looked anxious to return to his Shire. Maybe not even his uncle’s attempts to make him stay would be enough. 

Kíli commented it with him this the other night, when they were preparing to sleep in their almost clean room. 

“I think there’s still hope for them, Fee.” 

“Why? Bilbo doesn’t even get closer to uncle anymore.” 

“He doesn’t because he knows he’ll fall in his arms as soon as he is beside him.” He said, always the dreamer between the two of them. Fíli had to be the mature, responsible one while Kíli was the funny, romantic and adventurer.

“I don’t think that’s the case.” 

“Didn’t you see him when he was hurt and uncle approached him? He melted with uncle’s touch. I’m telling you, Fee, he is distant because he is afraid he’s not fit for uncle.”

“That may be but I don’t think Bilbo will want to stay for much longer to admit his feelings.”

“Don’t be a fool, brother. He already did - that kiss on the cheek was proof enough.” Kíli said. 

“Do you truly believe they will work it out?” 

“Well, I think uncle wants to and Bilbo is avoiding him.” He said. “And I can think of a solution or two for their problem of communication, if you’re interested.” 

“You can’t be serious.” Fíli said. “Uncle would kill us and we can’t fool a dragon, Kee.”

“And since when that stopped us, brother?” Kíli asked, mischievous.

“If it ends badly, I’m blaming you.” 

Their plans had to wait though. Bilbo had barely stepped out of the mountain when they caught signs of the elven army approaching the mountain. Thranduil was marching towards them and Fíli didn’t know what reasons they had to be coming here. Thorin had told him that the elven king had offered his help on their quest in exchange for some jewels that were his by right. His uncle had refused and at the end, Bilbo had rescued them. But that didn’t ease his mind. For all that he knew, the elven king could be marching here, thinking them dead and ready to claim the riches to himself. This would end badly for their company - they were running out of food and it would take a while for Bilbo to return. 

And besides, without their hobbit dragon and help from the Iron Hills still far away, they were only thirteen dwarves against an army of elves - they didn’t stand a chance. Fíli would gladly give his life for their new reclaimed home but he wouldn’t foolishly fight in a lost cause. Neither would his brother, if he had a say in it. Their mother would have their heads for this stupidity. 

It got worse when men of Lake-town started to arrive. They encountered the elves on the way and soon, they had one and a half army marching towards the mountain. When they reached Erebor, the entire company was tense. His uncle looked angry - a long history with elves will do that to someone. 

Thranduil asked and Thorin denied. Bard too, and he received a negative. 

They were under siege now. Bilbo and Dáin nowhere in sight. Fíli was certain that when their mother arrived from Ered Luin, she would scold Thorin for this. 

It didn’t last for long though. Bilbo resolved things. He passed unnoticed by the elven army and Fíli thought how ironic that was - a dragon, almost the size of a mountain, so soundless when in a hobbit form.

“What, in Valar’s name, is happening?” He demanded to know. 

“Thranduil is demanding some jewels.” Thorin replied. 

Bilbo looked at him skeptically. 

“And why haven’t you given it to him yet?”

“They’re not his. Everything that is here belonged to my kin.” Thorin answered.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo said, “are you telling me that I leave you alone for barely a week and you’re already greedy for gold?”

“I’m not greedy. I will simply not give the elves what doesn’t belong to them. They didn’t help us when Smaug came and tried to stop us in our quest. Why should I give them anything?”

“Because we’re fourteen against an army!” Bilbo told him exasperated. “And don’t think that just because I’m a dragon that I will help you fight them - I will not fight in a foolish war when it could be avoided by both sides if just their leaders could be reasoned with!”

“Bilbo-” 

“Don’t ‘Bilbo’ me!” He said. “You are becoming just like Smaug - he wouldn’t part from gold either. Thorin, lives are worth more than shiny stones. You should know this better than anyone.”

“It’s not their right.”

“I know.” Bilbo said, his hands touching Thorin’s arms. “But if you give him what he wants, he’ll leave you be - besides, you’ll prove that you’re better than greedy elves. Which you are, aren’t you?”

Thorin exhaled. 

“I know.” 

“Then please, give him the blasted jewels.” Bilbo said softly. “You’re not going to be bankrupt without a few stones.” 

Just like that, with few words, Bilbo stopped a war from happening. Fíli smiled - his brother was right, their hobbit didn’t want to admit his feelings but they were there all the same.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading your comments - they're the joy of my life!


	12. Part X - Bifur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A hundred thousand barrels of gold and five hundred barrels of precious gems.” Bilbo said, surprising them. 
> 
> “A what?” 
> 
> “That’s what the treasure hall has in gold.” He said. “I’d know. All dragons know how to count.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following canon, we have WAR

A messenger came during the negotiations. Orcs were coming. 

It was all they needed at this delicate moment. Thorin and Balin were dealing with the elves and the men of Lake-town, still discussing a fair payment. It was a complicated negotiation and many nights they returned late - Thorin storming off, looking for Bilbo, leaving Balin with a tired expression that made all his long years show on his face.

Their king had agreed to negotiate - thank Mahal and their hobbit for putting some sense into that thick dwarven head of his - but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t being difficult about it. Bifur had the impression that neither was the elven king. Thorin would be mortified but he had more in common with that elf than he thought - they were both terrible at diplomacy and too stubborn to see sense. Bifur would never want to be in Balin’s beard.

Tonight Thorin returned early, and gathered them all together. When they arrived at one of the halls, they received the news of war. Bifur thought that their luck seemed to only get impossible better - they managed to avoid a war only to get involved in another, and they hadn’t even done anything to provoke it! Considering Thorin’s undying love for the elves, that was no small deed. Those bloody orc scum. Now, they needed to discuss the next steps.

“What are you planning to do?” Dwalin asked bluntly.

“We don’t have a choice but to fight the orcs.” Thorin said tiredly. “The elves offered to help, as well as the men from Lake-town for a price, however.” 

“They realize that if they don’t fight, the orcs would reach their lands, eventually.” Nori said. 

“I know.” 

“But they’re still demanding payment?” 

“Yes.” Balin answered. 

“We don’t need them, Dáin is arriving with reinforcements.”

“We don’t need them.” Thorin agreed. “However, I’ve learned recently that I can be better than bloody elves, and refusing help would be foolish.” He said, looking at Bilbo, who blushed. 

“So how much will it cost their help?” Nori asked.

“Too much.” Balin said. “But with the gold we have here, I don’t think it will be a problem to pay them.”

“A hundred thousand barrels of gold and five hundred barrels of precious gems.” Bilbo blurted out, surprising them. 

“A what?” 

“That’s what the treasure hall has in gold.” He said. “I’d know. All dragons know how to count.” 

“Well, it’s a relief to know we’re not going to be bankrupt anytime soon, then.” Balin said.

Bilbo laughed. “I doubt - this is the biggest hoard I’ve ever seen. You have no idea how it’s tempting to just enter that hall and bury myself under that gold.”

“You can do that after the battle, to help us count the gold to pay the elves and men.” Balin suggested, good humoured. 

“I think I’ll take upon your offer.” 

After that, they went to separate ways to look for armor and weapons to wear. Erebor had a lot of it, all full of dust but none rusty. The swords were good as new, Bifur thought. Metal of better quality they wouldn’t find anywhere on Middle Earth.

\--.-- 

The council didn’t have the time to finish all the details of payment and strategies because war was upon them and they had to prepare and form a defense. Bifur was not a fan of battles - the last one he was in that was like this, he ended up with an axe in his head, seeing red for days. The healers were unable to remove it, since it would result in his death. 

When he woke up, he was unable to speak. It took him many years to learn again how to speak and even then, he only could say things in khuzdul - common speech not coming to him, no matter how hard he tried. He tended to avoid speaking as much as he could because he sounded funny and he didn’t appreciate the curious stares he got from others, even among their kin. Still, during their journey, he found out that he liked talking to Bilbo - when they learned he could speak in khuzdul, that is. It was nice to talk to someone else about his work in taking care of the king’s dogs and other animals and the hobbit was a good listener and he didn’t seem to care about the way Bifur spoke, always asking many questions. 

Now he could die by the hands of the orcs. What a pleasant way to die, he ironically thought. He cleaned his armor and sword, preparing to battle - at least he would have protection, which considering their journey, it would be a novelty.

The company paused before the gates, they would join the front lines soon. The hobbit was the only one missing. When he appeared, a few minutes later, he was wearing no armor, only his sword Sting in his belt. By the looks of it, Thorin didn’t like to see him without protection. 

“Thorin, we discussed this. I can’t wear the mithril shirt.” He said, feeling the king’s stare at him.

“I would feel better if you did.” 

“It’s not practical. I’ll just lose it if I have to transform in the middle of the battlefield.” 

Bifur smiled at their king’s worry. He was striving to not dismiss the hobbit’s opinions and abilities but it was obvious he found it difficult and was fighting a battle against his own instincts to protect. 

“You’ll fight as a dragon, Bilbo?” Ori asked. That picked Bifur’s curiosity. They hadn’t seen much from Bilbo’s fight with Smaug, having to hide to not breathe deadly smoke. Bifur thought that only the noises alone were frightening enough to not want to get involved in the middle of it. 

“That depends.” He responded. “If we start to lose, I’ll help but only if there’s no other option because I don’t think that would be wise. I could hurt people on our side, as you are aware. And there’s the matter that they seemed unaware of my existence and I would like to leave it that way. Oh, and I could be attacked by both sides if things go wrong. While it wouldn’t hurt me, I still wouldn’t like to feel things stinging in my skin.” 

“You’ll stay close at least.” Thorin asked. 

“Of course I will. I’m still terrible with swords and blind, in case you forgot.” He said.

Thorin huffed. It seemed that they would go to war, then. The king turned to them and said: “I am honored to have met you all.”

Moments later, they descended the gates, walking united towards the front. Heavily armed, Thorin Oakenshield’s company of dwarves was ready to battle against filth orcs.

At a distance, thousands of orcs marched to their encounter. There was still no sign of Dáin and his army of dwarves and that meant they were greatly outnumbered. The line of orcs seemed to have no end. At his side, Bilbo cursed. 

“There are more than I expected.” Bifur said in khuzdul.

“How many?” Ori asked.

“I would estimate at least thirty to forty thousand.” Bifur responded. 

“Mahal.” Ori said. 

“Even with Dáin’s army, this would still be difficult.” Dori said. “If he arrives.”

“Let us hope he does then.” Nori said.

Bifur had been in enough battles during his life to know that even with Dáin’s help, it would be a tight match for them. But he didn’t dwell on it, focusing on the enemy ahead of him. 

The horns sounded and they attacked, running in the direction of the orc scum. Bifur slayed and killed, left and right. He cut off limbs and heads, losing the count of how many of the filth he had disposed of with his sharp sword. He cut flesh like butter, not sparing a moment for his enemies to recover and regroup around him. It was total pandemonium around him and Bifur could only see red. 

Time lost its meaning for him. They had been fighting since morning, without stopping and waves and more waves of orcs were arriving upon them, not allowing them to breath and recover. Many fell and he was starting to see double. He blinked, trying to see straight - there were still many hours of slaughtering before he could rest. Bodies of elves, men and orcs surrounded him and his companions. It was still the same as when it started. The orcs gave them no vantage and Bifur thought that if they didn’t make anything sooner, things would soon turn and not for their advantage. They needed to take down the commander, Azog the Defy, who was sending orders to his troops from the elevated ruins of Dale, and if they could kill him, it would be easy to deal with the rest - orcs weren’t the most intelligent creatures and without orders, they would fled.

This was perfect in theory - and Bifur was sure Thorin had already thought about it at some point. But the problem was that they couldn’t move and reach Azog. He was too far and to go there, they had to pass through thousands of orcs. Bilbo appeared at his side, magic ring off, making him visible again. He had a lot of blood in his clothes and several cuts, although all of them healing fast. 

“I’m getting tired of killing orcs only to have more of them attacking me.” He complained as if he were a petulant child.

“That's a battle for you.” Bifur said, slaying a head off.

A sword ran through Bilbo’s back and he hissed. Thorin shouted, getting closer to them, a new burst of energy in him when he saw Bilbo being hurt. The hobbit turned and stuck his sword on the orc’s abdomen. 

“I’m okay.” He said. “I’m just-” he killed one more, “not used to this perspective of a-” an arm rolled off, “battlefield.” 

“We need to take down Azog.” Nori reached them along with Dwalin. They formed a circle in the middle of the orcs attacking them. 

“It’ll be a little difficult to reach him if you hadn’t noticed.” Dwalin said between hitting his axe in two pieces of scum. Bifur cursed, feeling his arm being sliced. 

“We’re not going to win if he’s still out there, Dwalin.” Nori shouted from the opposite side of their circle. 

“How do you propose we reach him, then?” Dwalin shouted back. 

“I can do it.” Bilbo said. A sword ran through him again. The hobbit cursed, he killed the orc and pulled the sword out, he bled but it soon closed.

“Are you okay?” Thorin shouted from where he was.

“Yeah.” Bilbo said. “But I’m getting tired of being sliced.” 

“You’re lucky you heal fast.” Nori commented.

“I want to end it.” The hobbit said, determined. “We’re not making any progress continuing like this and I can hear more troops marching here.” 

“Bilbo…” Thorin’s voice was hesitant.

“Where is he?” He asked instead.

“In one of the highest ruins of Ravenhill, on the south.” Thorin said. “Bilbo, are you sure-” 

“I have to.” He told him firmly. “Just make sure you don’t get close to me.”

And he was off, putting on his ring and becoming invisible. Bifur focussed on his own opponents - unlike their hobbit, he couldn’t afford to be gravely injured or he would be encountering his end soon enough. He was glad for their circle though - it relieved some of his frenzy and while still killing, this new rhythm allowed an interval between one orc and another. He hadn’t to guard his back anymore and that was a relief. He wondered where the others were and hoped they were managing on their own. Especially the lads, both young and inexperienced to be in a bloodshed like this, but that was life for them, unfair.

Bifur had immersed his mind in the battle again, forgetting about anything else. His focus was to not be killed and protect the dwarves at both of his sides. There was a sign of Bilbo soon enough, and Bifur let his heart beat with hope of getting out of this battle alive.

Suddenly, close to where Azog was in the old ruins of a fortress, a dark smoke filled the air and an enormous shape appeared. It grew and grew, imposing. An aggressive growl ressonanting. There was a moment when everyone stopped to look at what was happening on the orc’s side. Fear took the battlefield, and screams of “dragon!” could be heard from men and elves, looking intimidated and Bifur could see in their faces panic and the urge to run away - the elven king had slayed dragons but Bifur bet none of them had been as imposing as Bilbo. 

The orcs started to celebrate the dragon’s appearance, thinking it was on their side. A smile made its way to Bifur’s face. How solely mistaken they were. As soon as his transformation was complete, Bifur saw the dragon wasting no time in killing the orcs, who looked confused with the outcome. 

“Azog, you are mine.” It roared, angry.

The pale orc’s face was priceless - Bifur wished Ori was paying attention to this because he would ask for a drawing later. He saw the moment the dragon raised his arm and crushed the ruins of the fortress, along with Azog and his armies, the floor around them shaking with the destruction. The fight continued around them but with a dragon on the front, not many orcs reached their troops. The dragon was containing the battle and hunting down the rest of the scum. That pretty much was the end, for the orcs at least. The dragon didn’t stop though - he decimated them. 

Soon there were only crushed orc bodies for miles. The dragon turned to them, and Bifur felt their allies stiff. The army of Thranduil stopped, waiting for the signal of their king. The only ones unconcerned were the dwarves of Thorin Oakenshield’s company, having already seen their hobbit in this form. Still, Bifur could admit he felt a little shaken to see a creature so lethal up close. 

The dragon gave one step towards them. In a tense atmosphere, no one moved. It lowered its body, sitting on the bloodied soil. Its green eyes were expressive and intense. The dragon lowered his head, and stayed there - Bifur would say it appeared to be quite comfortable there. 

Bifur saw Thorin leaving his side and walking towards it. What a scene - a dwarf king making a beeline for a dragon. Its eyes followed Thorin’s movements but it gave no indication of its thoughts. Bifur could only hope that in this form, Bilbo was able to distinguish friend from foe. The king was standing in front of the dragon now. A low growl was made by it and Bifur almost mistook it for a warning. But he saw the dragon closing his eyes, and the sound getting steady. He inclined his head towards Thorin, almost knocking the dwarf king over. 

_It was purring_ , Bifur realized. 

The dragon was purring like a domestic cat. 

Thorin must’ve realized it too because he put away his sword, securing it in his belt and both of his hands patted the dragon’s nose. Bifur could only look around him - Thranduil looked shocked and it was reflected in the rest of the elven troops as well as the men. They must be asking themselves where Thorin had found a dragon in Middle Earth that hadn’t the intention of decimating them - and since when he was friends with a creature like this, especially after the desolation caused by Smaug. 

He saw from the corner of his eyes Fíli, Kíli and Ori making their way to the dragon as well. He looked at Nori and Dwalin and they shrugged, starting to walk towards it too. In a few minutes, the company of Thorin was reunited in all its fourteen members. Kíli was patting the dragon enthusiastically. Then he appeared to have an idea. 

“Bilbo?” It opened an eye to look at the prince. “Can I climb you?” 

_Now, the ideas that boy had_ , Bifur thought. It’s a dragon, not a pony to mount.

The dragon huffed. He saw a movement from the corner of his eye. Its tail moved fast, caughting Kíli. He screamed. The company held their breaths. But it only released him above the dragon’s head. 

“Wow,” Kíli said, his balance off. “Give a dwarf a warning.” 

The dragon huffed again, annoyed. Bifur smiled - that was their hobbit. 

\--.-- 

The dragon - Bilbo - seemed in no rush to transform back to his hobbit self. He seemed content to let the princes and Ori climb him and explore his scales. Bifur would say he looked amused with the dwarves - he was sure that, after this, they would be considered dwarflings again. It closed its eyes and stayed quiet, but Bifur could see the nostrils expanding and retreating in a tempo that could not be mistaken for sleep. He was wide awake. 

The company watched as the elven king Thranduil came to them, with his son and the she-elf guard that had captured them. They approached slowly, unsure of what to make of the enormous creature that occupied almost the entire battlefield. He looked impressed, even for someone who had slayed his share of worms in his days. The dragon opened his eyes at them, and if dragons could roll eyes, he was certain it would have done it. He closed them again, unbothered by the elven approach. 

“It seems that you acquired yourself a dragon.” Thranduil spoke with unusual cautiousness, as if afraid to disturb the beast.

The dragon in question growled at the words. 

“Not acquired, more like hired.” Kíli said from where he was sitting. He touched one of the big horns on the dragon’s face and it immediately shook his head, making Ori almost fall. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you ticklish?” 

It opened its eyes annoyed. “I’m sorry! I promise I won’t do it again.” Kíli rushed to say.

It huffed but continued to follow Kíli’s movements. 

“I’m curious to know how you came to hire a dragon.” The elven king corrected himself, eyeing the creature with interest.

“That would be the wizard’s fault.” Balin said. “But perhaps we could discuss it at a better time.”

“Of course.” Thranduil responded, barely hiding his curiosity.

The dragon made a noise, or a growl and he started moving. It looked at the dwarves on it intently.

“Oh, are you going to move, Bilbo?” Ori asked.

“Can we go with you?” Kíli asked. 

The dragon looked at Thorin as if asking for help. 

“Please, uncle.” Fíli said. “We promise to behave.” 

Thorin signed. The dragon didn’t give time for them to answer, slowly raising its hand to remove them, one by one and putting them on the ground - the dwarves didn’t have time to protest though. A smoke surrounded the dragon, covering its entire form and it slowly diminished until there was only a hobbit left, naked as the day he was born. Bilbo’s face was red and he looked like he wanted to run and hide from the stares he was receiving.

“Does anyone have clothes to lend me?” Bilbo asked.

Thranduil was looking at the entire scene with a raised eyebrow. Fíli, who was closer to him, took off his shirt and gave it to him. Bilbo put it on, grateful. He wasn’t the only one who had color on his face, Thorin was looking at the floor with a suddenly great interest. 

“It’s good to have you back, Bilbo.” Bifur said. 

“Although we liked your dragon version too.” Kíli added. 

“You dwarflings are terrible.” He told them.

“Oi! We aren’t dwarflings.” Kíli said, offended.

“Didn’t seem like it.” And then he almost fell off on his face. Fíli was immediately there, holding him. 

“I’m sorry. I just lose balance after I transform. It’ll pass.” 

“Are you okay though?” He asked.

“Yeah, but I would like to rest - it takes a lot of energy to go back and forth between shapes, and so soon after Smaug, it’s making me sleepy.”

“Okay, I think we can take you to your bedroll without a problem.” He said, smiling.

“Actually…” Bilbo said, timidly. “If you wouldn’t mind, could I sleep in the treasure hall?” 

The company turned to Thorin.

“It’s- Well, the gold is more comfortable to sleep.” He rushed to add. “I mean, you don’t have to.” 

“I will help you get there.” Thorin said, taking his nephew’s place. And off they went, to the inside of Erebor. 

\--.--

Bilbo was nowhere in sight when Bifur went to check on him in the treasure hall. He had volunteered after Thorin went to resume the discussions with Thranduil and Bard along with Balin - and after seeing the dragon, Bifur had the distinct impression that men and elves would be more amenable to less unfair terms. The dwarf heard a sound that he was sure wasn't coming from a hobbit. 

There, buried into the gold, was Bilbo but not as a hobbit as Bifur was expecting him to be. Now, how does one awake a dragon? Would he react badly from being disturbed? Bifur had to try though, better him than Óin - and Bilbo was already sleeping for two days straight. 

“Bilbo?” He called - and he wasn’t about to just venture to where the dragon was lying to be accidentally crushed.

The dragon remained unmoved. 

“Dandryth?” Bifur tried. This time, it moved, and opened its eyes, looking for who had disturbed its sleep. The dwarf felt uncomfortable. “It’s been two days and we are getting worried about you, Bilbo.” He said tentatively using the hobbit’s name.

He didn’t have to fear though. Soon, the smoke surrounded the place and a hobbit, still putting his clothes with some balance difficulties was coming to his direction. Bifur handed him his stick. 

“Thank you, Bifur. I lost track of the time.” He said, sheepish. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a nice place to sleep like this.” 

Bifur couldn’t imagine how sleeping on hard coins was nice but he wouldn’t question a hobbit dragon. They walked back to the entrance and the dwarf told Bilbo that his presence was being requested at the tent with Thorin and Balin, along with the elven king and Bard. Bilbo was already on his way, having thanked Bifur for waking him up.

“Bilbo, Tharkûn is there, too.” He said before the hobbit was too far away.

“What? Since when?” 

“He arrived early today.” Bifur answered. 

He heard the hobbit cursing, it was amusing to see that a wizard could cause such reactions no matter the races involved in his meddlings. He watched him go and turned to his own affairs. Dáin had reached Erebor the day before and the Lonely Mountain was starting to be full of life once again. There were dwarves everywhere helping to make the place inhabitable again. A group with the strongest were leading the reconstruction - the worst parts were the front door that had been broken by Smaug and the forges, which had suffered the most damage from the dragon’s attack. Dáin’s forces had stayed away from the treasure though - nobody had dared to disturb the hobbit’s sleep.

Bifur felt on his element again, being in charge of taking care of the animals of the armies. He had a lot of work to do and he could only expect it to increase, with Dís' caravan coming when the weather allowed the travel. But he didn’t mind, it was pleasant and he felt that it would not be longer until Erebor would be thriving with life once again. 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next we'll have our last interlude - I'm thinking about posting on Tuesday and then the next chapter on Friday so stay tuned!


	13. Interlude III - Thorin and Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin was confused. Admittedly, he was always lost when it came to his One, Bilbo Baggins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Tess, you asked for what happened and you shall receive answers 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Thorin was confused. Admittedly, he was always lost when it came to his One, Bilbo Baggins. He had, and the blame was entirely on him, being distrustful of him since the beginning and when he felt that things were finally adjusting to better, he found himself once again without notion of what he had done wrong. 

Bilbo was being distant with him, ever since Lake-town. He understood that it was shocking to discover that not only his soulmate was blind and somehow magic but also an ancient dragon - a creature that evoked terrible nightmares in him for decades - was a low blow for someone like him, who had lived through a desolation and exile at the expense of a worm. 

He had been quiet during the hobbit’s explanation and he tried to not judge before seeing him in action, as he had done before. The wizard trusted Bilbo as did the elf lord of Rivendell and if they did, perhaps Thorin could too - not that he would admit this out loud to any living soul. So he had taken it all as calmly as he could. It made sense that Bilbo had been more than hesitant towards his advances in the Mirkwood forest - and for that the dwarf king was grateful, otherwise he would’ve felt deceived and betrayed.

When the hobbit entered his room that night, he looked more tense than Thorin had ever seen him. It was awkward and uncomfortable and the dwarf didn’t know what to make of it. 

“I’m sorry, Thorin.” Bilbo said and there was so much hurt in his voice that Thorin’s own heart was beating loudly in sympathy. “I should’ve talked to you in Greenwood but…”

“Would you have told me?” He asked and he had to know. _Would Bilbo ever have told him the truth if he had been given a choice?_

“I don’t know.” He confessed. “I wanted to but-”

He didn’t say anything else.

“I see.” Thorin said. 

That had been it and they spoke scarcely after that. But as they made their path to Erebor and the mountain came closer to view, he found that he wanted to, at least, be able to talk to his other half even if he did not return his feelings. He missed talking to Bilbo about all kinds of subjects and so he sought him again and half of the time he was successful and the signs of affection were clear on the hobbit’s part, but then Bilbo would look like he forgot himself and an invisible wall was raised between then. It frustrated Thorin to no end. But he persisted, following Glóin’s advice that it was worth it - he could only hope the dwarf was right on this.

Before entering the Lonely Mountain, Thorin almost gave up on all his hopes with his mate. He felt like Bilbo was saying farewell to them behind his sweet words to distract them from the anxiety of entering Erebor but he couldn’t grasp exactly why he was doing this, not when they were so close to retaking what was theirs and had a solid plan for that. Thorin couldn’t talk to Bilbo about it because by then, they had found the secret door and opened it - Smaug inside there, waiting for them.

Thorin had never felt like this - the kiss, only on his cheek, was enough for him to decide to find Bilbo as soon as possible after. They needed to talk and he would be honest with his feelings and hope for the best. After, when Bilbo was not himself, he noticed that the hobbit calmed when he used a term of endearment. If those were not signs for him to keep trying, he wouldn’t know what they could possibly be. 

Of course when he thought things were starting to improve his luck had to prove him wrong once more. Life of Thorin Oakenshield didn’t work that way - the war had come to them, even when he had done everything to avoid it. Seeing Bilbo fighting alongside him was terrifying - and he kept being hit with swords, it did not matter to Thorin that the hobbit healed fast, he was his mate and the orc scum was hurting him, no rational thought could diverge the dwarf of his need to protect Bilbo.

It ended better than he thought it would - even if the boys proved to be more dwarflings than mature dwarves. Thranduil was looking like he would only wait so long for answers but Thorin found that he did not care at that moment. Balin could take care of things for him. He had to take his mate to a safe place first and if he had asked for gold, he would have all of Erebor’s gold. When they entered the mountain, Bilbo seemed less tired than before. He decided that, while not ideal, they both needed to have words, if only a few to not leave this awkward air around them anymore. 

“Will you stay with us after?” Thorin asked but what he desperately wanted to say was _will you stay with me?_

“I don’t know.” Bilbo told him distantly.

“Why?” He asked gently, although inside he felt his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

“I’m...not sure if that’s a good thing.” 

“You’re a hero, Bilbo. None of us would want you to feel unwelcomed here.” _I don’t wish to be apart from you_.

“You say that now.” His One said bitterly. “But I don’t think the dwarves will like to live with a dragon in the Lonely Mountain.” 

“They won’t fear you. You proved yourself many times already.” 

He didn’t respond but Thorin could still feel that he wasn’t being completely open with the real problem.

“Bilbo, _ghivashel_.” Thorin said. “Tell me what’s truly bothering you.”

“Please, don’t call me that.” Bilbo said brokenly and looked down. His shoulders were tense. “I keep feeling that soon you’re going to wake up from whatever made you like this and then...I don’t want to be here when it happens.” He said miserably.

“What do you mean with wake up?”

He stepped away from Thorin’s arm. He took several breaths before he spoke again. “Thorin...I’m a dragon. You saw me out there - you can’t be possibly okay with this. I know you think you are for now but- a dragon caused your suffering, your kin was almost exterminated. How could they accept me? How can you- I don’t think you know what you're offering.”

Thorin’s heart broke with that. Was this why his mate, his One, was suffering? Was this what made him so distant? 

“Bilbo, you are not Smaug.” He said, echoing similar words he had heard from him. “I know you told us you made terrible things in the past. But you are not that person anymore. I would trust you with my life. And I don’t care that you are a dragon. You are my _One_ , Bilbo. My place is alongside you as is my heart, _ghivashel_. Please, I will spend the rest of my days proving that you are more than worthy of my affections, if you have me.” He laid bare his heart and his soul for Bilbo, and it was in his hands to crush or cherish it.

Bilbo’s eyes were filled with tears. 

“Would you, really?” 

“Yes.” Thorin said, out of breath. “There’s nothing that I wish more than to be by your side and have you at mine.”

A tear fell, and Thorin found out that he too was crying. 

“You fool dwarf.” Bilbo told him, coming closer. “I tried to be distant but you had to find your way, didn’t you.”

“I was once told that it’s always worth trying, even if it takes time.”

Bilbo smiled, a private curl of lips that was just for him, with rosy cheeks wet from his tears. Thorin lowered his head until they touched foreheads. He had finally found home in his hobbit dragon who had burgled his way into his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on posting next chapter on Thursday or Friday so stay tuned!


	14. Part XI - Óin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dáin looked at him, thoughtful. Óin felt like the wizard - enigmatic with his answer, telling much without saying anything at all. If that was the power of Gandalf, the healer could see the appeal of such methods. The better part was that people didn’t tend to question you for explanations, not wanting to appear dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, politics...
> 
> \- In which things are discussed thoroughly,  
> \- Bilbo is sassy,  
> \- Thranduil is amused until he is not,  
> \- Bard is...well, he is Bard  
> \- And Dáin is the cool dwarf

The battle was won by the righteous but work is just beginning for Óin. As a healer, his hands were better occupied far away from the front lines. He worked and worked, trying to save lives from men and elves. He was exhausted as much as any soldier when they declared the war finished but he still had many to heal, wounds to tend - not only today but for quite a few weeks after, people don't heal overnight like a certain hobbit does.

For as long as he could remember, Óin always loved taking care of others. It brought joy to him to take away some of the pain and be able to help a person in need. But with the years of his long life, he came to know the horrors of his profession. It brought no joy to him being in a healing tent close to the battlefield. So many lives were taken away and there was nothing he could do to prevent it, not enough people to help nor time. 

As things were, he had to be there along with healers. When the rush was less frenetic, he took a break to rest and eat to keep his energy for the night - the first one after a battle was always the most difficult to endure, many patients who were critical didn’t survive, it was hard and required a lot of stability. The thought of retiring was more present these days in Óin’s mind. After Smaug, he had to tend a lot of dwarves and many didn’t survive the journey in exile - that had served as an awakening of sorts for him. It was tiring to lose people in his line of work and the years were taking a toll on him. 

During his break, Thorin asked for him to check on Bilbo. His king had a glint in his eyes that wasn't there the last time Óin had seen him - something must’ve happened. Good. Thorin deserved happiness, since he had lost more than many and fought back even more to regain what was his. The healer found Bilbo sleeping peacefully on the gold, in his dragon form. He must have transformed back without noticing. As far as Óin knew, he appeared to be well, not that he had any knowledge about dragons whatsoever, he could only assume. He fetched clothes for him and his stick and left them there in a place of easy access for when he awoke. 

Óin rested briefly and returned to tend the men at tents. He spent the night giving all of himself to ensure they recovered. By the next day, he was exhausted. He had returned inside of Erebor to change clothes and had just taken a bowl with food prepared by Bombur to eat when he was summoned by Thorin to attend negotiations. Why he was called, he did not know - what place did a healer had along with politics? Nevertheless he was curious. He ate quickly and went. Already waiting for him were his king, Balin, Thranduil along with his son, prince Legolas, and Bard, representing the men of Lake-town. Óin was surprised to see the wizard sitting in the middle, as if mediating dwarves and elves. Dáin was there accompanied by a dwarf who Óin imagined was his adviser. Well, Dáin hadn’t abandoned them, he had just the misfortune to arrive late - and he knew Dáin liked to fight in battles.

There was an empty place and since he was the only one standing, he sat down. Gandalf was the first to speak.

“How does fare our hobbit?”

When Thorin didn’t answer, Óin took upon himself to respond.

“He is well as far as I can say.” He said.

Thorin raised an eyebrow at his answer.

“He sleeps but I don’t know much about dragons to know for sure.” Óin elaborated.

“So a hobbit who is a dragon.” Thranduil commented, looking at the wizard. “I have never seen it before.”

Gandalf looked abashed. Dáin interrupted what he was going to say, though.

“What are you talking about? I heard that Smaug was killed.” 

“Aye, he was.” Balin responded, looking at Thorin who could leave it like that or say more.

“Perhaps it’s for the best if we explain things from the start.” Gandalf said, looking at them all before starting. When he was sure of their attention, he told them what Bilbo had already said at Lake-town. “Bilbo Baggins is a member of Thorin’s company. He is a hobbit who lives in the Shire but he hasn’t always been a hobbit - he was created as a dragon, by Morgoth, in the first age.”

“Morgoth only created evil, Mithrandir.” Thranduil told him.

“Yes, and I won’t deny that he wasn’t Bilbo by then. Only later, when I found him, Valar gave him a second chance to repent. He was turned into a hobbit and has been living as one ever since.”

“And you brought him along, cousin?” Dáin had a disapproving voice.

“Gandalf hadn’t informed us of his true self at the time.” Thorin answered, glaring at the wizard. “By the time he told us, we were already at Lake-town and too far on our quest to send him home.”

“Still, a dragon! Wasn’t Smaug enough?” 

“He isn’t like that, cousin.” Thorin said firmly, using all his authority to convey it. “Bilbo was most helpful in our journey. He did nothing to break our trust in him. It was him who slayed Smaug.”

“A dragon slaying another dragon!” Dáin said exasperated, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Aye.” Balin said. “It’s the truth.” 

“I wonder where the body is, then.” Prince Legolas interrupted. “If he really killed that worm, we would see the proof, wouldn’t we?”

Óin had to admit if he was in the prince’s position, he would have asked the same, after all, what they were telling looked impossible to happen. A dragon would never allie itself with dwarves to the point of killing his own kin. Dáin, who hated even more the elves, was looking curious to know the answer, even Gandalf was. 

“There isn't a body,” Balin said, agreeing, “because he ate it.” 

“The hobbit, who is a dragon, killed Smaug and ate his body?” Legolas asked incredulously. 

“Aye.” Thorin answered. “You can ask any of my company.”

“I’ll tell you lad, it wasn’t a pleasant view and the smell was terrible.” Óin said. “We didn’t stay to watch.” 

“That is...something.” Thranduil said. 

Thorin nodded. 

“He helped us to take down Azog.” Balin said to Dáin. “I think that if not for him, many more would’ve been lost.” 

Bard, who was listening until now, decided to participate by asking:

“And where did you say he is now?” 

“Sleeping at the treasure hall.” Óin said.

“Is it safe to leave him there?” Bard inquired. “If he’s a dragon, how can you be certain that he won’t kill us all?” 

“You saw him after the battle was over, he wouldn’t do anything to harm us.” Balin answered. 

“You trust a creature bigger than Smaug who is currently sleeping in your gold?” 

Gandalf interfered before more suspicions could be raised.

“Bilbo may be a dragon but he spent many decades learning how to be a hobbit. Lord Elrond himself deemed him elf-friend - if that doesn’t speak for itself, you can always talk to him when he awakes.”

“An elf-friend?” Thranduil asked.

Gandalf nodded. “He stayed at Rivendell for a time when he had just been turned. Lord Elrond healed him and taught him many things.”

The elven king nodded, still thinking. 

“I would like to talk to him.” He said after a moment. 

Bard nodded. He looked more distrustful and skeptical than Legolas. 

“Aye, so do I.” Dáin said. “When can we?”

All turned to Óin. 

“As I said, I don’t know much about dragons. He sleeps but based on the last time, I think that by tomorrow we can try to wake him up.” 

Gandalf nodded. “That would be for the best. It’s very tiring to go from a small form to a bigger one. You said he was sleeping on the gold?”

Óin nodded. 

“Then he’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Gandalf said and he received a lot of questioning glances but the wizard pretended to not see them. 

“So be it, tomorrow we may reunite again to talk with Bilbo Baggins.” Thranduil said and the reunion was over. 

Óin returned to his duties and tried to not think much about the meeting on the next day. It wasn’t much probable that he would be invited again - he wasn’t sure why he had been in the first one. He decided to ask Balin about it when he was eating dinner. He had checked early on Bilbo and he found him still dead to the world around him. 

“Thorin wants you there.” Balin told him later.

“Aye, but I’m not a diplomat.” He had gathered that his king had requested his presence.

“No, you are not.” Balin agreed. “But he thought a different view would be welcomed.”

Óin thought about it. “But what about the princes?” 

“Thorin charged them with the reconstruction.” Balin said. “Dwalin and Nori are supervising the troops of Dáin and I imagine Ori is with them. Bombur and Bofur are taking care of the food. Bifur is with the animals and making sure they’re well treated.”

“Glóin and Dori?” 

“They’re organizing the letters between Ered Luin and Erebor along with the planning for their moving back here.” Balin said. “But do not take this as if you were our last option. I suggested an outsider opinion who could be impartial as Bilbo’s would be - and Mahal knows Thorin tends to listen to him more than any of us. You were the logic option. As a healer, you help any independent of their race. You are neutral.”

“Like Bilbo.” 

“Aye.” 

“Will I still be required tomorrow?” 

“You are not but you should.” Balin told him. “I suspect Dáin is not going to accept Bilbo. Your opinion of him could make him change his mind.”

“You mean he will see Thorin’s besotted look at the hobbit.” Óin said. 

“I wouldn’t describe it like this but I think we both saw how he was after leaving Bilbo to rest.” 

“He looked worse than Glóin when he talked about his wife.” 

Balin nodded. “And Thranduil would value your opinion since your priority is to save lives.” 

“What about the man?” 

“Bard?” Óin nodded. “He is a difficult one.” Balin admitted. “But I think that if we reach a majority, he’ll have no options but to agree even if he thinks the contrary. And once we gain Thranduil support, Bard will be in a difficult position if he doesn’t cooperate after all, Lake-town trades with Mirkwood for decades.”

“You are forgetting his son.” Óin said. “Prince Legolas doesn’t look amenable.” 

“He isn’t but he’ll follow his father.” Balin said confidently. “He can disagree in private but his father’s final decision will be the one he’ll have to agree to.” 

Óin didn’t say anything, Balin knew more about politics than he ever could. 

“I’ll attend tomorrow.” 

“Good.”

Óin barely had time to rest when he was called to the meeting the next day. He was glad he made it on time today. No one was talking and there was an empty seat at Gandalf’s side that belonged to the hobbit. The healer couldn’t imagine Thorin was happy with this arrangement but he guessed his king wasn’t given much of a choice on the matter. Balin must’ve told him that having Bilbo by his side would give Dáin the wrong opinion and would end up compromising the entire strategy they hoped to execute. 

He understood why Dwalin wasn’t there in his place too - even being the king's most trusted friend, Dwalin’s displeasure of the elves would put it all at jeopardy. And Óin had the distinct impression that something had happened between him and Nori - or else why would those two, who always fought for nothing at all, be put together in a work of supervision, that involved an united front and a solid opinion? His king wasn’t the only one finding happiness recently, Óin thought. 

They waited a while before a familiar hobbit entered the tent, looking embarrassed and unsure. He had his stick and he had a face of someone who had just fallen out of bed - hair mussed and still a little disoriented. 

“Bilbo, my boy, sit by me.” Gandalf called. Right, Óin forgot sometimes that Bilbo was blind when a hobbit. He must know everyone who was there but not where to sit.

He watched the hobbit move and sat by the wizard. 

“Why am I here, Gandalf?” He said, not completely hiding his irritation at the wizard.

Gandalf, as a good wizard he was, pretended to not hear the tone. 

“Thranduil, Bard and Dáin here were curious about you, my dear.” Gandalf told him. “They would like to ask you some questions, if it’s not a bother.”

Bilbo huffed. “If I answer some questions, will you answer mine later, Gandalf?” 

“I’m sure we’ll have time for that later.” The wizard told him, evasive.

“I’m being serious, Gandalf.” Bilbo said. “Will you or shall you complicate things unnecessarily?”

Óin watched the wizard become uncomfortable. Bilbo certainly knew what to say to him.

“Yes, Bilbo Baggins. I shall answer your questions.” 

“Thank you.” The hobbit smiled sweetly, then he turned to Thranduil and Bard, “now, what did you want to know?” 

“Did you really turn your back against your own kin?” Thranduil asked, without winding. 

“Yes.” Bilbo said a little too soon. “And I’ll be honest that it’s not something I am inclined to do again any time soon.” 

“Interesting. Why did you then?” 

“Some wizards,” Bilbo said, “have the idea that I should prove myself. I agreed at the time because it seemed sensible. But it was still not easy to do.”

Thranduil nodded, apparently satisfied. 

“How can we know that you won’t be another Smaug?” Bard suddenly asked. “You are sleeping at the treasure hall already.”

That thought had occurred to Óin - especially because Bilbo mentioned more than once that dragons crave gold more than anything else and it had caused his own fall in the past. 

“I am not like Smaug.” Bilbo told him firmly. “I used to be, but not anymore. I’ll be honest and say that it could happen again but I have friends to guide me and not let that happen.”

“Then why sleep there?” Dáin questioned. 

“Because gold helps.” Bilbo said. “Dragons have hoards because we’re greedy, yes. But also because it heals and makes our scales hard, more impenetrable. It’s a comfortable bed, if you want to know.”

“Won’t you be tempted?” Legolas asked, a hard line on his face.

“Yes, I am.” Bilbo said simply. “But I can manage. I have more important things to focus on than a pile of gold.” He must’ve felt the elf’s disbelief because he added: “And it wouldn’t be my first time resisting a hoard, even if the previous one was less substantial like yours.” 

Legolas looked shocked. His father hid it better.

“You freed them.” Thranduil deduced.

“Yes.” The hobbit confirmed. “Wasn’t too difficult.” 

The elven king had to hold his son’s arm to not let him advance towards the hobbit.

“Father…”

Thranduil ignored him. He asked the hobbit instead:

“How did you do it?”

“A little bit of magic, mist and susceptible minds did the trick.” Bilbo told him. “Oh, and there may have been a drunk guard with keys that helped.” 

Thranduil huffed but Óin could see a twitch of lips on the elf’s mouth. 

“All of my guards were fooled by a blind hobbit.” He commented. 

“What? You’re blind?” Dáin asked. 

“He is. Why else would he carry a stick and look lost when entering a room with only one chair available for him to sit?” Thranduil answered. “I may not be Elrond but I know about healing. Why didn’t my kin heal your eyes?” 

“It can’t be healed, I’m cursed in this form.” Bilbo told him. “To learn to not see only gold, but to find more valuable things in life. I am one of the smallest creatures and blind - not even Elrond can remove a curse imposed by Valar.”

Thranduil nodded. 

“Can you transform at any time?” Dáin asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, if I want to.” Bilbo answered. “But it’s tiring to do it. I sleep a lot after and I’m used to being a hobbit - and it’s not like we have many places on Middle Earth to host a dragon of my size.” 

Gandalf's sudden cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. 

“Bilbo is being modest.” He said. “You are almost as tall as Ancalagon.” 

Bilbo huffed, annoyed. “My brother was only bigger because he was a fire drake.”

“And you’re not?” Dáin asked.

“No, I’m the smallest from the three of us. A smoke breathing. I’m only this size because Morgoth made us and we were the first but others after me were never as tall.” 

Dáin nodded. “Did you really eat Smaug?” 

Bilbo blushed. 

“I was hungry and I wouldn’t eat my friends.” He said. “Although dwarves are delicious to eat. As well as elves.”

“You ate elves?” Legolas said through gritted teeth. “How could Lord Elrond declare you elf-friend?”

“It was a long time ago.” He raised his hands in peace. “And I spent a lot of time in Rivendell. Elrond was very patient with me and I like to think that he saw my potential instead of what I was at the time.” Bilbo turned to Bard suddenly. “You, on the other hand…” He said, intently, “are planning something. I would guess it has to do with me. Do you wish to kill me?”

He asked Bard, gauging his reaction. Óin saw his ears twitch. The man in question was silent, face an impassive mask. 

“Well, you could certainly try. I warn you though: I can’t be hurt in this form, and as a dragon there’s few things that could harm me - few people and none of them are currently alive right now to make you the weapons you would need. But if you’re set on this, I advise you to head to Mordor first. Only Sauron or a weapon forged by him in that volcan can stand fair against me.” Bilbo smiled darkly. “Surprised to hear that? I’m not Smaug, Bard. I’m much older and made differently. Morgoth, my creator, would make Sauron appear as a cheap magician in comparison.” 

There was silence on the tent. 

“You are making assumptions without proof, _halfling_.” Bard finally said.

“No, I’m not.” 

“I don’t remember making any threats.” Bard told him. “And I have many witnesses here to support it.” 

That was certainly true. Óin couldn’t deny he had a strong point and by the tension filling the room, he was starting to worry that Thranduil would be persuaded by the man’s strong opinions against their hobbit. 

“That is true.” Bilbo conceded. “But you forgot I can smell you - all of your emotions. I don’t have to hear to know what you’re thinking. And, I think we all here know the old tales about dragons, don’t we? I agree that you are telling the truth but I know you’re not being _honest_ with your true intentions either. No one can lie to a dragon, Master Bard.” 

From the corner of his eye, Óin saw Legolas murmur something against his father’s ear, too quiet for the old healer to grasp - the hobbit caught it though but he just smiled.

“Master Baggins is right.” Thranduil said. “My son has doubts about it - it seems like an improbable ability to have, be able to detect lies and half-truths. But I assure you, a dragon’s magic is powerful and ancient, to try to hide from it is impossible. And smells do tell things if you know what to look for - skin changers of the past were exceptional about their distinctive capacity to smell emotions and intentions in others. I suppose that in dragons it's only amplified.” 

Bard had a deep frown on his face. He looked at Thranduil in the eyes and demanded:

“How can you not be worried about this?” 

“I don’t like serpents, just like you.” The king said. “And I fought my fair share at my time. But I know a threat when I see one and Master Baggins doesn’t appear to be one for us. But,” he said warningly, “if what he tells us about his past is right,” and he turned to Gandalf, who confirmed it was with a nod, “we wouldn’t stand a chance against him. We could summon armies and join efforts but even then, it wouldn’t still be a fair fight. Only someone like Eärendil could oppose him.”

“And we do nothing?” Bard asked, angry. “What guarantee do I have that we’re safe?”

“That is a question you should ask me about.” Bilbo told him, returning to the conversation. “I’m not here to cause more death or destruction. If I wanted to, you’d be all dead, yes, but I don’t - because I’m not that dragon anymore. I understand your worries - children to take care of and to have a place for them to grow old. Well, I have no interest in starting a war against you all. I want to live in peace - I had my shares of wars for an eternity.” 

“And when you’re hungry?” He asked. “Will we have the same destiny as Smaug?”

“No.” Bilbo said. “I’m not planning on being a dragon for the foreseeable future - my hunger is only of a hobbit and even then, I think I’m quite full for the next few years.” 

“I still have no guarantee.” 

“You won’t have one, except my words, Master Bard.” Bilbo said, his tone more kind. “I could swear an oath but there’s no magic that could bind me to one. There’s nothing to do about it, I’m afraid. There are no weapons available here to safekeep as a form of protection for you and Gandalf can only do so much to ensure I’m kept in line.” 

Gandalf agreed. “Master Bard will have to settle yourself for what he has - your word.” 

“Oh dear,” Bilbo said, suddenly.

“What is it, lad?” Óin asked.

“I think I’ll have to transform back again.” 

“What? Now?” Thorin asked urgently.

“No, not now.” The hobbit said. “But it would help, wouldn’t it? The reconstruction, I mean.”

“Oh,” Balin said. “Dáin’s men are already repairing but now that I think about it, having a big hand to help would facilitate things.”

“Yeah, I could lift the heavier parts and the columns that were broken.” Bilbo said. “It never occurred to me until now.” 

Balin nodded, starting to think about it - Óin had no doubts that he was visualizing where their hobbit would be most needed. And when he thought about it himself, Óin suddenly had another idea.

“Bilbo, you could help the injured.” He said and all eyes turned to him. “You can heal others - unless it’s not something you do lightly.” He rushed to say. Maybe healing was one of the things the hobbit preferred not to do, unless as a last resource.

“You’re right, Óin. I could help them too. Do you know how many were injured?”

“Many - I would say a thousand at least.” He said, tuning to Thranduil, who agreed with a nod. 

The hobbit appeared lost in thought. It was a while before he spoke again. 

“I don’t think I can do this in this form, it would be too tiring. But as a dragon, it would work quite differently - you’d have to draw my blood for it and my scales... Gandalf, do you think-?”

“It could be done,” The wizard replied. “In theory but I never read of any successful attempts.” 

“Attempts of what? What are you talking about?” Thorin asked. 

“My smoke.” Bilbo answered. “In theory it should be able to heal as much as cause damage. But I never did it before and there was never a dragon that did it - I know that my blood can heal but even if I pierce my scales, it would close too fast to draw the amount we need.” 

“A test could be done.” Gandalf said. 

“But if I accidentally do not control it rightly, the person will die.” 

“Yes,” the wizard agreed. “But you can also do it without problems and many would be on their feet in minutes.”

Bilbo dropped his shoulders. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you - you always manage to convince me, don’t you.” 

Gandalf didn’t say anything but the mirth was evident in his face. 

“Well, that should settle then.” Balin said. “Master Bard, would you be convinced if Bilbo heals those people?” 

“No.” He said in honesty. “But I can recognize a good gesture when I see one.” 

Balin nodded - he wouldn’t press for more. He would take his victories as they were. 

"Well, now we only need a volunteer." Óin said.

"I can go." Thranduil said, surprising them all. At their skeptical looks, he raised an eyebrow. "I'm a healer and I will do fairly better than someone who is wounded. It's not the advised thing to do as I'm aware." He said before his son could protest. "But as a leader, I should have my kin's lives above my own. If they suffer and I have the means to help them, then it is my duty to do it."

"Oh goodness." Bilbo said. "If I end up killing you, a war will start again, won't it?"

"This why you shall not fail, Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf told him confidently.

"Very well." He said. "Let's get over with it." He turned to leave but stopped. "Oh, and before I forgot - since I'll be exhausted I demand to sleep in the treasure hall. Valar knows I'm too old for this."

And he left, stick in hand guiding him. Then he returned when no one followed.

"Come on. I don't have all eternity - well, I do but those people don't."

As if his day wasn’t about to become much more exciting, Óin thought. They walked for miles, to a safe distance from the camp. Bilbo was nowhere in sight but then Óin felt something touching his shoulder, a gentle hand. 

“Óin, could you keep these for me?” He said, handing something to the dwarf - it was revealed to be his clothes and stick when the hobbit was not in touch with them anymore. His invisible ring certainly came in hand at these situations. 

A black smoke filled the air around them until a dragon appeared in its place. Óin was impressed by the sight - he never would not be. 

The dragon turned to Thranduil. It extended a palm, calmly. He saw Legolas move to not be caught together. The elven king was in the dragon’s hand now, its fingers holding him in a grasp not too tight. He was elevated and the dragon turned away from them to not risk any of them in case of an accident. 

Óin didn’t know for sure how much time they stayed there, standing, waiting for something - good or bad news. He saw the prince, moving from one side to another, impatiently. He remembered Óin of Fíli and Kíli. Both would be worried had the situation been reversed. 

Then, when even the wizard was starting to frown, there was a movement. Thranduil was returning to them - and he looked... Well, Óin would say he was almost identical to his son. Younger was an understatement. He had the appearance of a lad, not of a king. Legolas looked shocked to see his father like that. Óin would be more surprised if he hadn’t seen Thorin after Bilbo had healed him. The dragon turned to them. 

“My dear,” Gandalf told him, “I think you may have exaggerated a little.”

“Aye.” Balin said. “Do you think you can help the wounded?”

The dragon made a curt nod but he didn’t move.

“I think it’s for the best if we take refuge in a safe place, preferably high.” Thranduil said, his voice high. He paused at the strangeness of his own voice. Then he looked at the dragon, as if thinking about blaming him. “It appears that I find myself more young than my own son.” 

Legolas looked ready to laugh. His father didn’t let him, though - but Óin had an impression that he would be teased when in private.

“I think you wouldn’t want to become like myself, would you? Master Bard would be turned into a baby at this rate.” He said, not amused at all by his predicament.

“Aye, I’ll call the healers too.” Óin replied. 

The group walked to the mountain to wait in a place where the smoke wouldn’t reach them. Óin had the healers join them soon, as well as the soldiers standing by - men, elves and dwarves. It was strange to see such union in those present. He wasn’t the only one thinking about it - it was visible in the eyes of others, their cooperation surprising them. It was a while before they were all reunited, and the dragon waited patiently - some elves passing through him casting glances at the enormous creature. The dragon looked amused, if Óin could describe it like that, it was hard to tell when only its eyes were moving. Balin signaled to him when they had been all out of reach. 

The dragon standed and exhaled a heavy, dense smoke from its mouth. It covered the entire camp in seconds and Óin couldn’t see a step ahead of him. He was astonished when he recalled Bilbo's previous words, _if I wanted to, you’d be all dead_. Indeed, there was no escape from that smoke even up in a high place, it was almost reaching them.

Óin looked for any signs of the people down there or even the dragon. He saw only eyes of a green color staring back at him. It was a disconcerting view. The smoke started dissipating gradually and the old dwarf healer could see the people down there, no longer inside the tents. Óin saw no sign of the dragon though. Where was him? 

There was a light touch on his shoulder a few minutes later - Bilbo. 

“Could you give me my clothes back?” He asked gently. 

The healer held them for Bilbo to take while he was dressing himself. The hobbit was out of balance a lot and reached out to him for support, his stick was of no help to his lack of coordination. Thorin noticed the movements and approached them. When Bilbo finally removed his ring, there was a big audience around them. He looked exhausted. 

Óin had to catch him before he fell. 

“Oh goodness.” Their hobbit said, without energy. “I’m getting a headache from this, aren’t I.” 

Thorin looked ready to take Bilbo in his arms and comfort him. 

“I can try to soften your pain, Master Baggins.” Thranduil said. 

“No, thank you. You would end up worse than me - I will dry your energy and well, I think that you would say goodbye to your young self and welcome your really old self, that you don’t even know yet.” 

“Are you certain?” He genuinely looked like he wanted to help.

“Yes. I just need to lay down for a while.” 

“In the gold.” Thorin said. 

“In the gold.” Bilbo agreed. “You should wake me tomorrow for the reconstruction. I’ll be a dragon by then.”

Bilbo looked ready to fall asleep there. His eyes kept closing and he was talking slowly. Thorin took him from Óin’s arms and no one stopped him when he moved to the inside of the mountain - on the contrary, they opened the path to him. Óin smiled. 

\--.--

“That’s a shame my friend.” Óin heard Gandalf saying. The healer was passing by a late afternoon when he heard them talking. With the help of a dragon, things were going smoothly for Erebor. The elves were still there, Thranduil had suddenly decided to help in a show of good faith.

“I was thinking of inviting you to a drink or two.” The wizard continued.

Bilbo laughed. “You still won’t manage to get me drunk, Gandalf.” He was in his hobbit form again, after two days of work and a night of sleep.

“I can try.” 

Óin saw Thranduil approach them and Legolas behind him. A few words were exchanged and soon enough they were heading to the king’s tent - for those drinks, Óin imagined. Well, if that’s what it takes to gain the alliance of elves, the healer was sure Balin would’ve done it much earlier. 

As for Bard, Óin noticed he had kept himself apart from them - he probably had much to think about. It was disconcerting to have your private thoughts picked by another. During their journey, Bilbo had done that after he told them the truth. He would stop suddenly and tell what they were thinking - Óin would never understand totally how he did it. He was never wrong though. And there was the fact that Bilbo had healed many at the expense of himself, even if he wasn’t gravely affected by it. Óin thought that it was likely Bard would take a while to warm up to their hobbit. The man was not of those who trusted easily by nature but even he couldn’t deny, as he himself said, a good intention _and_ a good action. 

He tried not to think about Dáin. The dwarf talked little and it was difficult to gauge his true thoughts - the dwarf had been impressed, yes, but he still had to consult with his own counsel to decide to trust or not in the hobbit. He worried that with only Thranduil charmed, they would be put in a difficult position - if dwarves didn’t support their own kin, what good does it serve them? But he needn’t to worry much about it because Óin found himself talking to Dáin after. He found the healer tired and heading towards the kitchens for food along with Bombur and Bofur. Dáin approached him and they started walking towards the mountain. 

“I still can’t believe my cousin is all right with a-” Dáin tried to say. 

“Hobbit dragon?” 

“Aye.” He said. “When did this happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Óin told him. “He was suspicious of him at first. But I think that Bilbo proved himself well enough to gain his respect.” 

“I heard tales but I didn’t believe them. But now after what he did...” 

“It’s true. All of it.” Óin assured him.

“But why would he do that? Save a dwarf - we’re enemies.” He referred to the hobbit’s confrontation with Azog in their early journey. 

“We are but I don’t think old prejudices should be in the way of great friendships.” 

Dáin looked at him, searching.

“Tell me Óin, is it truly just a friendship?” 

Óin shouldn’t answer - it was not his place to tell a subject so intimate about his king. He also couldn’t avoid Dáin’s question without raising suspicions, more than there were, anyway. No one with eyes could pretend not to see the affection their king carried for the hobbit.

“It’s not my place to know my king’s heart, Dáin.” He said diplomatically. “But I believe Mahal has a purpose for all of us, and we shouldn’t try to detain ourselves from it, whether we are able to see the consequences of the path set straight for us or not.” 

Dáin looked at him, thoughtful. Óin felt like the wizard - enigmatic with his answer, telling much without saying anything at all. If that was the power of Gandalf, the healer could see the appeal of such methods. The better part was that people didn’t tend to question you for explanations, not wanting to appear dull. 

“Aye, you’re right.” He said finally. “In this case, I only have one question about the hobbit.”

Óin waited for it.

“Is the feeling mutual?” 

“I believe it is.” 

Dáin nodded. 

“Then it’s enough for me.” He declared. “I shall support him - it’s against our sacred laws to break bonds, after all.” 

Óin smiled. “Indeed it is. You’ll like him - Bilbo is a good friend.”

He laughed. “Of course he is. Who else would bear with my insufferable cousin?”

The healer laughed as well. Indeed, Bilbo was something else if he managed to make Thorin a better dwarf. With that it was one more to their cause along with a young charmed Thranduil. The next step was to soften Bard up. Óin would leave him to Balin - he was the diplomat after all, and he had done plenty already without even trying hard with Dáin. If he ever retired from healing people, he thought, he would give a go to diplomacy. 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you all on the weekend!


	15. Part XII - Dori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin cursed in khuzdul. He left the room in a hurry, still muttering curses. Balin turned to him. 
> 
> “You didn’t tell Bilbo.” 
> 
> “No, but the odds were against us - he probably already knows what we’re planning and if not, soon enough. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?”
> 
> “Well, now at least we have one concern less to worry about.” Balin admitted. “Well played, lad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't post on the weekend guys (｡╯︵╰｡)  
> I had so many things to do (like, watching Avatar and Shingeki no Kyojin hehe *hides in a corner*)
> 
> So, here we are.  
> Enjoy!

It was, in equal parts, amazing and terrifying to have a dragon inside the Lonely Mountain helping the dwarves to reconstruct. There was a lot to be done and most of the work required tremendous brute force, such as the columns that had been brought down by Smaug and had to be replaced by new ones or repaired and put in place once again. There wasn’t enough material to do the repairs the infrastructure required - and that was adequate to the aesthetic of dwarven architecture - so the workers had to improvise with what was available. 

There was the matter of the front door - the gate that was broken by Smaug when he invaded, and left nothing to be reused of the iron - it was deformed and melted, along with signs of rust because of the fire and the less than ideal treatment suffered from the climate in the following decades. It was sad to see iron of such high quality being thrown away, discarded, but there was little the dwarves could do with it. They would have to forge a new gate to guard the entrance of Erebor. It would take a lot of their limited time and with the conditions and workers they had at their disposal, it wouldn’t be a priority since they could just fill the hole with rocks temporarily. 

Thorin was supervising the work and helping whenever he had free time but his duties consumed him - politics were always demanding and he had more concerns than a new shining gate to make. Winter was approaching them and the season in the east was harsh and severe. Food and wood had to be stocked for their survival, along with clothes - they had to ensure the heating provided by the forges would sustain at least some part of the mountain, a system of plumbing, already existent, had to be cleaned and made functional again for clean water to be consumed and sewer discarded. Óin was adamant about clean water, especially with the mountain supporting men and dwarves in winter, disease could be quick to spread and they wouldn’t have medicine to treat people, and many would perish with no place to bury since they would be isolated from the outside world for months. 

Dori saw Thorin frequently to report about Ered Luin. The king’s sister, Dís, was animated with their success and happy with the perspective of moving once again to their long lost home. It wasn’t an easy task, to organize the moving of an entire colony of dwarves and their families. The guilds would help a lot to make Erebor a functional kingdom again but they came along with families, dwarflings and those demanded food, lodging and safe places - which wasn’t Erebor right now. Many structures were compromised and deemed unstable, no one without permission could go to those areas. 

These were motives which had made Thorin agree with Dori and Glóin about the moving from Ered Luin to be postponed to after the winter - they would have had by then months of cleaning and repairs done inside the mountain, making it habitable again to receive more dwarves. 

Dori knew that Thorin was negotiating a supply of food, provided by the elves of Mirkwood to see them through winter. He saw sometimes the papers along with extensive notes of Balin’s recommendations or suggestions. Dáin was eager to help his cousin but the distance between their kingdoms was considerable and food, even if of high quality, wouldn’t arrive before the roads were closed and full of snow. It was unsafe to transport and Mirkwood was closer. Thranduil was proving to be a good negotiator and Dori saw him along with Bard discussing supplies. It was decided that men would be welcomed in Erebor as a compensation for the destruction of Dale and an incentive to reconstruct it. Joining forces had been the logical choice with the little time they had. 

Bard was less hard on his opinions from what Dori could observe. His posture was still guarded but he was more cooperative during reunions but he seemed to be warming up with the idea of their hobbit-turned-to-dragon. Bilbo was frequently more dragon than hobbit these last days. Dori could hear him even now, as he waited outside the tent of delegations. Thranduil, Bard and Thorin were once again talking about food inside it, and more specifically, herbs and bandages that Óin had requested to stock for the months to come. Dori was there because he had received a reply from Dís and had come to report to his king about it. It seemed that things were going without trouble since Balin had left Thorin alone to verify some matters, with only Dwalin to guard outside. 

“We have those herbs,” Dori heard Thranduil saying, reading from the list on his hand, “but not in this quantity to provide in short notice.”

Thorin thought about it.

“I am not well versed in healing as elves are, and I trust my healer with his list of requests. Do you think we could survive through winter inside the mountain with less than what he asks?”

Thranduil was surprised with the honest question. He probably wasn’t expecting a diplomatically Thorin to make an appearance - Dorin wondered what Balin must’ve said to him to reach this result. Bard was quiet but the dwarf knew he was paying attention to the conversation.

“For a time? Yes, you could. But I fear your healer is right in being cautious. Winter is an unforgiving season and locked inside the mountain, the risks of disease are high and even more to contract it from those sick with it. Your chances of finding these herbs are slim and it’s impossible to cultivate them in these temperatures and soil.” 

“What can we do then?” Bard asked, concerned. 

“There’s always another way.” Thorin said. He was thinking hard. “If not all the herbs we need, maybe more healers could be an alternative.”

Thranduil looked at him with interest. 

“If we had good healers, we could prevent diseases.” Thorin continued. Bard seemed to follow his line of thought. “Could you spare healers for the winter?” 

The elven king nodded slowly. “I have to consult my advisors first but I think it’s a solid middle ground.” 

Thorin nodded and Thranduil left, their meeting paused for the time being. Dori walked inside to his king to show him the letter and his written response before sending. Bard was looking at the papers across the table while waiting. 

“How is the reconstruction?” He asked Dori, turning to him.

“The last I saw them, they were repairing the forges.” He answered. “They are trying to fix one of the cauldrons that was badly damaged. I think the metal structure of the walls were being repaired along too.” 

The man nodded. 

“That explains the noises.” 

“Aye. It’s a priority to restore the forges, the heating provided by them will see us through the colder months.” 

Thorin gave him back the papers and Dori bid his goodbye, returning to work. It seemed that they had a lot to agree on. He went to find Glóin and discuss the treasury - Thorin had given him a paper last night about the gold they would be spending with the agreements. It was a lot but that was to be expected when you demand a short time to fulfill it and the time of the year was taken into consideration. Glóin helped Dori with letters but he was, for the most part, responsible for the accounting of the gold. Just because they were rich - the most rich dwarven kingdom on Middle Earth - didn’t mean they could be careless with the gold. Thorin still had to pay the company and fill his part of their contracts and, while Dori knew many of them wouldn’t care about the exact sum of gold, it was theirs and not the kingdom’s anymore. He would have the expenses of Dáin’s support to pay and the moving of the colony to worry about too. 

Not that they could ever hope to go bankrupt with the amount of gems inside that mountain. 

Still, it was good to have a control about the expenses, if only to have records. 

Dori and Glóin worked until close to the hour Bombur called them for dinner. They moved to the great pavillon where the meals were taken by men and dwarves, sometimes even some of Thranduil’s elves joined them. Some had remained to protect their king and to help with the reconstruction but most of the elven king’s army had returned to Mirkwood.

That night, the hall was full of people from the three races, mixed together, eating and sharing conversations. The mood seemed pleasant and warm and Dori looked for his brothers, finding them at a nearby table with the rest of their company. He made a beeline for them after he grabbed his share of the evening’s food. Today Bilbo was among them, the hobbit seemed to be in a deep conversation with his brother Ori and he imagined it had something to do with books. 

He sat, enjoying the warm meal and the companionship of his friends. Thorin was nowhere to be seen but that was common these days - he rarely had the time to eat and Dori suspected that he only ate what Balin remembered to place in front of him. He wondered what Bilbo would have to say about that - their hobbit was a lot more close to the king than any of them. Dori had heard that they had finally sorted things out properly this time. The difference was tangible in both of them. Bilbo looked more happier and certain of himself, not hesitant or making himself scarce in Thorin’s presence. 

He carried a courting bead in his hair now, and Dori didn’t even have to look to know that Thorin must’ve been glowing when he put it there. He also had one in his black long hair, matching the hobbit’s. They weren’t seeing together frequently - quite the opposite, actually - being as busy as they were but whenever Dori saw them, Thorin had the look of a fool in love who had found the most precious gem in all Middle Earth. It was a pity that Bilbo couldn’t see it, really. But Dori suspected he knew all the same, because he too bared the face of someone entirely happy, a high blush on his cheeks when the king leaned too close to him. It wouldn’t be long before Dori and their company would be planning a wedding, and he knew they would want to be all involved. 

A movement of people arriving drew his attention. Thranduil, his son and a few elven guards entered, accompanied by Thorin, Balin, Dwalin and the man, Bard.

That was most unusual since the elven king was almost never seen outside the tent to discuss politics or his private tent. That his son was with him proved to be something of great importance. Dori wasn’t the only one to stop to observe their entrance, there was no way of not noticing the elves, nobility even more with their luxurious clothes. There was no need to ask for silence because people were already paying attention. They positioned themselves in the middle, visible to all presents on the tables in the hall. 

“We came here to give news about our preparations to face the winter in the following months.” Thorin addressed them. “As you are aware, Bard and I have been discussing extensively with king Thranduil about supplies and medicine. We have come to an agreement about these matters and with the cooperation of all present here, I am certain our stay at Erebor will be productive and this mountain will once again flourish as a home to its inhabitants. King Thranduil will provide us the food we need as well as medicine for the next months.” He paused, looking at them. “There was, however, an impasse about herbs to be provided as medicine.”

“Our kingdom,” Thranduil continued, “doesn’t have a supply big enough to sustain the demands of Erebor.” He said calmly. “That’s why we accorded in an alternative. Elves have always been known for their skills with healing and we’ll provide some of our healers along with herbs to supply the need.”

Dori nodded to himself in approval, it was a good solution. He looked around and many seemed satisfied with the solution. The rest of their dinner passed without further announcements and Dori enjoyed the opportunity to relax and talk with his brothers and friends as they had been busy those last few days, it was nice to share a meal with the company again.

\--.--

Thranduil left the next morning with his soldiers, back to his kingdom. Dori wasn’t in the comitive that wished him safe travels. He was busy elsewhere along with Glóin to help in the reconstruction since there wasn’t much to do related to letters. Thorin had paid the elven king for the agreements and Dori was hopeful of their new allies - dwarves and elves hadn’t the best history with dealings of their kins but he felt that this time, things would go smoothly for both sides. 

He was in the forges, where dwarves and men were waiting for Bilbo, now a dragon, to reposition the cauldron back in place. Dori was impressed with how such a heavy object could look so tiny and easy to manipulate for a creature of Bilbo’s size. He looked like a domestic cat playing with a toy. 

Having a dragon was of much help in that part. Dori was thankful for not having the need to wait months in freezing temperatures for the guilds to repair Erebor. The wizard made an appearance that day too. He looked pleased with himself while he observed the dragon working - he wondered if when Gandalf chose the hobbit as the fourteenth member he was imagining this outcome, but with a wizard one could never tell. Dori thought to ask him if he would remain in Erebor for winter but he forgot the question when he saw blond hair from the corner of his eye. He turned to find prince Legolas watching the scene along with them. 

What was the prince of Mirkwood doing here? Unguarded and apparently having missed the departure of his comitive? 

Legolas turned to him, having sensed his stare. 

“Your highness?” Dori asked, unsure. 

The prince smiled. 

“I’m sorry but I thought your father had departed this morning?”

“He did.” Legolas answered his poor question but offered no more, probably enjoying the confusion he created with such answers.

“I- Why are you here?” Dori said and he was glad his tone sounded genuinely confused and not reproachful. 

“My father trusted me to supervise the healers he left here. And since I know a few things about healing myself, it seemed logical that I stayed.” He said. 

It wasn’t logical. No king would leave his heir in another kingdom, especially one they’ve just recently reestablished alliances again. Erebor wasn’t a safe place for a prince of Mirkwood, even if he could offer his services as a healer - which was the most untraditional since princes didn’t do this kind of work, they busied themselves with noble occupations. Dori doubted Thranduil trusted Thorin with his son’s life - and if any misfortune came upon his son, war would be brought to their doors. How could Thorin agree to this - how Balin had let it happen - it was beyond the dwarf’s comprehension. 

Dori didn’t reply to the prince, he just bowed his head in a short courtesy and turned to see that his assistance was required by others. The cauldron was in place once again and they had to verify it was all in the correct places. The dwarf was intrigued though, and he would search for answers later.

Later came to be dinner time. The company was reunited and even Thorin was among them. Bilbo was not there but a place beside the king was secured for him. Their hobbit made an appearance soon enough. He carried his plate and he was accompanied by prince Legolas and the she-elf guard, Tauriel. They reached the table and the hobbit stopped. 

“I never know if it’s right or left.” He said. 

“Right.” Thorin answered and Bilbo sat at his right side. 

“Come along, grab chairs.” He said to both elves, who were unsure of their welcome at the central group in the hall. 

They didn’t make a ceremony with the invitation and soon, they had the additional company of them. The others seemed as confused as Dori was about the prince among them. They would have to observe then, and the prince being so close would be an excellent opportunity to do it without being considered rude. He didn’t have to resort to it, though. 

“So, Legolas,” Bilbo said casually, between bites of his own food, “why are you here? I mean, it didn’t seem like Thranduil to leave his heir in another kingdom without many guards.” 

Thank Mahal for their hobbit. Trust him to ask the important questions and be direct without causing an offense. 

“He didn’t want to.” The elven prince agreed, a light color on his cheeks. He looked young like this, embarrassed. “It was mostly curiosity that made me stay here.”

“Curiosity?” Bilbo asked, although they all knew he wasn’t a fool about the true meaning of the elf’s words.

“I was- I am actually impressed with-” and the prince didn’t seem to find the words to finish.

“Me?” Bilbo asked none the wiser. 

“Well...yes.” 

Their hobbit laughed. 

“Is it so fascinating that I can turn into a dragon?” He asked no one in particular.

“It’s not like all dragons are as friendly as you.” Dori responded when nobody at their table did. “Or help repair damages from their kin.”

“Well, it’s only right that I do or else who would, I wonder.” He said. “Besides, I consider myself more a hobbit than a dragon.”

“But you were created as a dragon, weren’t you?” Legolas asked, all pretense of a composure gone and curiosity at full display. Dori thought he looked like his younger brother when Ori was excited about a new book he was reading. Eyes shining and full of childish wonder.

“Yes, I was.” Bilbo told him. “You stayed just because of it?” 

“I-” 

“Yes,” Tauriel replied in his place. “And he was the most adamant with his father, if I recall.”

“Tauriel.” 

“It is true, my prince.” She said amused. 

Bilbo smiled. “Well, if that’s the case, you should ask to your heart's content. I won’t mind.”

After a few moments of thinking to himself - debating with it was polite or not, the prince asked:

“Is it painful?” He blurted out. Then, “To transform.” 

That was not something that had crossed Dori’s mind. The hobbit always looked tired after and sometimes he was asleep in moments but these last few days, he stayed as a dragon most of the time, not changing back, sleeping among gold. The dwarf thought it was because he was saving his energy to help but perhaps that was not the case and by the looks of the company, they hadn’t thought about the possibility either. Had their burglar been in pain and not told them?

Bilbo looked embarrassed. 

“I- well, yes.” He said sheepish. “But not something terrible that I can’t stand. It just makes me tired when I become a hobbit again. And you lot don’t need to be worried. Gandalf would be the first to be against it if he thought it wasn’t something I could do. And talking about wizards, I should talk to him soon.”

“Whatever for?” Thorin asked.

“He will be leaving soon, won’t he? I must prepare if I am to join him.” 

“You’re leaving?” Kíli asked and they were all looking at Bilbo for an answer.

“Well, yes.” He said, as a matter of fact. “You didn’t expect me to leave Bag End for Lobelia, did you? I have to sort my affairs, appoint an heir to take care of my properties and take the possessions I want to keep before establishing myself here.” 

“Oh.” Kíli said. “So you’ll return.” 

“Of course I will. Whoever gave you the idea I was leaving you for good?” Bilbo said. “I am a creature of responsibility - I can’t leave my things scattered in the Shire. And I’m in the middle of a courtship, I wouldn’t leave for trivials matters.” 

Thorin had a look of amusement on his face. 

“Of course you wouldn’t.” He said.

Bilbo huffed, offended. 

“I would fly there if it were possible but I must take the long way.” 

“Can we go with you?” Fíli asked.

“Please, Bilbo.” Ori said.

The hobbit laughed. “I see now that my decision of not having children was not in my power to make as it seems I acquired myself dwarflings to take under my wings.” 

“We are not children, Bilbo.” Kíli said but Dori was certain he didn’t convince anyone with that voice. 

“I don’t think so, and compared to me, you’re all little dwarflings.” He said. 

The boys smiled. Of course they would want to accompany Bilbo in his journey. Dori saw how his brother was attached to the hobbit, since the beginning of their quest. And he was grateful Ori had found a good friend in their burglar. 

“Wait,” the elven prince said, suddenly. “You said you can have children?”

“Yes, I can lay eggs. Why?”

“Does this mean they can be half dwarfs then?” 

Bilbo was red, to the point of his ears till where his shirt covered his neck, and Dori suspected his blush extended till his entire chest. 

“Oh!” Kíli exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell us that we’ll have cousins, Uncle Bilbo?”

The hobbit opened his mouth and closed it several times. He shook his head. 

“I swear that when Valar promised me a new life he didn’t mention this kind of embarrassment.” He complained.

“But Uncle Bilbo!” 

“No. I will not have children, Kíli.” He said. “You two are quite enough, thank you! And if you continue, you’ll be staying here when I leave with Gandalf.” 

The prince looked ready to protest but the perspective of being left behind made him close his mouth quickly. Dori almost let out a laugh. It would be good, he conceded, to have little dwarflings running around Erebor but that wasn’t his decision to make and he suspected the king would, if he so desired, be able to convince Bilbo to change his mind with time. 

“Now lads,” Balin said, “you shouldn’t think so far ahead. You should be asking about a marriage, not children.”

This time both Bilbo and Thorin blushed. 

“Balin!” The two shouted at him.

Dori smiled, indeed they should start preparing for a wedding. It would bring luck to have a joyful occasion so soon on the Lonely Mountain. 

\--.--

It was a lot of papers. Dori was helping Balin with the laws - Thorin was to be crowned king under the mountain but the dwarf refused, stubborn as he was, he wanted to change laws that had guided their people for ages, since Durin I. He could understand, of course - being in love could lead some to be foolish in certain matters. But what the dwarf had proposed had never been made before. No king before shared power with their consort.

That wasn’t to say that consorts didn’t hold power on their own but it was more ceremonial and discreet - a power that acted behind the curtains and involved more diplomatic talks and to provide entertainments than power among the council, to sign papers and secure trades. Thorin, on the other hand, was adamant in his request. He was to be crowned king along with Bilbo and they would be able to rule, together as one united front. 

It was a total mess. Dori supported the idea, of course, as well as the entire company and many - if not all - of the residents in Erebor, including men. They all knew Bilbo and his accomplishments, especially his qualities and virtues. For them, he was more than a simple hobbit or a powerful dragon, he was someone who had fought for their kingdom, who had been loyal and kind with its people. But there lay the problem. While people would understand Thorin’s choice of consort with time, and pass to love him, they wouldn’t know Bilbo living yet so far away, in Ered Luin. 

The caravan would arrive in late autumn if their plans bore fruits and Bilbo was to leave in the first week of spring. Thorin wanted to delay his coronation - which could be good if it gave others the opportunity to see the new king - but if he waited too long, as it would be the case, doubts would arise, or, as Balin confessed to Dori one day, even threats of rebellions. Bilbo would possibly only arrive from his long journey a month after. They would have to be crowned as soon as he arrived by then accompanying a joint ceremony for their wedding - giving no time for the people to accept him before being forced to be his subjects.

Thorin’s idea was beautiful but not practical in terms of ruling. That wasn’t to mention the problem of Bilbo being more than a simple hobbit.  
Dori couldn’t start to guess how dwarves would react to a dragon being married to the king of Erebor. Balin appeared to be more white every day after arguing with their king. He was resolute. 

“What do you mean you haven’t asked him?” Balin’s voice echoed from the other room. Dori went to see what was happening, putting his papers away, he made a beeline for where he heard Balin. He found him talking to Thorin, their faces illuminated by torchlight. 

“I will ask him, Balin. I simply need more time to make the appropriate gift for the occasion.” 

“What is happening?” Dori asked and Balin turned to him, exasperated.

“Our king didn’t propose to Bilbo yet, that’s what happened, Dori.”

“Why not?” He said, confused. “We’ve been sorting laws and traditions and preparing for a wedding for weeks now - I thought it was settled.”

“I thought too.” Balin said, giving a look to Thorin which Dori was sure would make him being thrown in prison if he hadn’t been by Thorin’s side since before he was born.

“I have to make a present yet.” Thorin said, obviously maintaining tradition when it suited him. It was custom to give presents during a courtship, always things that were thoughtful for the intended, and when to propose, the dwarf would make the most valuable gift for his beloved and ask for his or her hand. 

Dori understood why his king would want to follow tradition as he would already not follow with it for his wedding and coronation - which were more important than a courtship. The part that caused problems was that they - and by they, it was the entire company - were already planning the wedding between their free time when not involved with restoration or reconstruction or even cleaning Erebor’s halls. It must have reached Bilbo what they were planning and if not, their hobbit was not stupid to be in the dark for much longer. Besides, he had excellent hearing - if he so desired, he could listen to any of their murmured conversations. 

“...sure you must see reason?” Balin asked the king. 

Dori didn’t hear what Thorin replied - an idea forming in his head. If Thorin was resolute in delaying his proposal, perhaps he could be convinced that it was already too late for doing it? 

“I am truly sorry, my king.” Dori said, trying to convey a deep regret in his voice when he interrupted them. 

“Whatever for, Dori?” Thorin asked.

“The hobbit.”

“What does Bilbo have to do with this conversation?” 

“I thought, and others of our company that have been helping with planning, that you had already made the proposal.” He said, letting his eyes fall down. “We- I’m sorry but we made some questions for Bilbo, asking for his personal preferences for his clothes for the wedding and...the coronation.” 

“When did you talk to him?” Thorin asked quietly.

If this wasn’t worth facing a furious Thorin, Dori didn’t know what was. It was for a greater cause, their king was going to marry his One but just needed a little motivation to propose. 

“Since the first day, my king.” Dori murmured, trying to appear guilty. 

Thorin cursed in khuzdul. He left the room in a hurry, still muttering curses. Balin turned to him. 

“You didn’t tell Bilbo.” 

“No, but the odds were against us - he probably already knows what we’re planning and if not, soon enough. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?”

“Well, now at least we have one concern less to worry about.” Balin admitted. “Well played, lad.” 

“I wish I could see Thorin’s face when he realizes the truth.” 

“Aye.” 

“We’ll just ask Bilbo when we see him.” Dori said. “Now, for the matter of flowers for the wedding…”

\--.--

Dori found their hobbit by midday the next morning. He had Balin by his side and the old dwarf had an easy smile on his lips. He decided to approach them. 

“Stupid dwarf, how did he expected me to not know?” He overheard Bilbo saying. “Oh, Dori, you’re here. Balin told me I owed you for being proposed to.”

“I just gave Thorin a little push.” He said. 

“Well, I thank you for that. Mahal knows how long he would have waited.” 

Dori snorted. 

“I’m curious, actually. That’s why I wanted to find you.” 

“Hm?” 

“What did he say?” Because really. A marriage proposal made by Thorin Oakenshield to Bilbo Baggins should be public knowledge and Dori intended to report to his little brother Ori to have this on Erebor’s history books.

Bilbo made a funny face. It was a mix of amusement, exasperation and fondness. 

“Well, I was sleeping on the gold since we had called a day and today I would still be needed as a dragon.” He said, fighting a smile. “I didn’t notice him until he touched my nose and then Thorin was standing there with a pained expression on his face and I thought something terrible had happened.” 

Balin let out a cof that did nothing to hide his laugh. Of course Thorin would pick the worst moment to propose. Romance was just his forte.

“He asked me to transform back, which I did, but he seemed to forget that I always come back nacked. I could smell his embarrassment and he didn’t know what to say.” 

“You broke him, poor dwarf.” Dori said. 

“Yeah, I think I did. He finally snapped out of it and handed me clothes. At this point, I was almost falling asleep again. This routine of turning into a dragon and hobbit is exhausting. When I was giving up and turned to say good night to him he said, ‘Marry me’.” 

“Just that?” 

“Just that, simple and bluntly.” 

Dori laughed. That was the Thorin they knew. “What did you answer?”

“I said, ‘Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. We’ve been planning a wedding for a few weeks now! Did you really think I would’ve let you lot be doing this behind my back without noticing? I can hear everything that happens in this mountain, Thorin.’”

“Did he say anything to that?” 

“I believe he said, ‘Oh’ and then ‘why didn’t you tell me you knew?’ and I explained that ‘I already considered us married since as a dragon, you don’t marry someone, you just find your mate and if it’s acknowledged by them, you’re already theirs until one of you dies’. Then I told him ‘your costumes and culture are important to you and I know you have a public ceremony to celebrate a union, and that usually a proposal is made beforehand, so I was waiting for you to be ready’ because, you know, I already made him wait for me, it’s only fair that I’m willing to wait for him for the rest of my life.”

Dori smiled. Bilbo was really a good match for their king. 

“You don’t mind” he said after a few moments, “that I tell my brother this, do you? This should be recorded.” 

Bilbo huffed. “No, I don’t. Go ahead and tell whoever you want.” 

Dori did. 

By dinner, there were many congratulations and best wishes for Thorin. There would be for Bilbo too but Dori noticed the hobbit was absent. 

“He escaped." Dwalin grunted beside him on the table. “Sleeping in the treasure hall.”

“Ah, and no one wants to disturb a sleeping dragon.” 

“You bet they won’t.” 

“Well, it’s good to see that our hobbit still has a sense of humour.” Balin said, his head pointing to their king, surrounded by Dáin and his soldiers. 

“Serves him right.” Kíli said. “He should have proposed sooner.” 

“Did he give Bilbo a gift?” Legolas asked joining the conversation. “It’s custom, isn’t it?”

At that they turned to Balin. The dwarf shook his head. “If he gave one I don’t know.”

“Should we investigate?” Kíli asked, mirth in his eyes.

“No, it’s private.” Dwalin said, his tone final. “Leave them be.”

“Look at the other side, Kee.” Fíli said to his brother. “At least they are engaged now.”

Dori supposed that was the whole point - and all that mattered.

\--.--

He ended finding what the gift was a few days later, when he was called to Bilbo’s rooms - the consort’s apartments, in fact.

“Thorin wants me to deal with the elves.”

“What a surprise.” Dori said flatly. 

Bilbo laughed. “Well, better me than him. Although I thought he was doing good with Thranduil and even Legolas.”

“That was a miracle provided by Mahal indeed.” 

“Yeah.” Bilbo said. “Hm, why don’t we drink some tea while I take a look at these documents?” 

And the hobbit pointed to the direction of a table. He sat and Bilbo went to make tea. After a few moments he was back. They spent hours discussing trade agreements and Bilbo had some ideas about the soil and seeds to cultivate that the elves could provide. Dori was out of his depth but he trusted the hobbit to know what should be done with the desolated lands surrounding the Lonely Mountain. 

They were so engrossed by it and things were progressing so smoothly that Dori was surprised to hear his own stomach protesting - dinner had long passed. 

It was then that Dori noticed.

A vase, sculpted in dwarven style with Khuzdul inscriptions on the corner of the room. It was unlike anything that Dori had ever seen - dwarves sculpted gems and adorned things with them. Plants didn’t grow inside Erebor, the climate didn’t allow it. Besides, even being simple in design, it was delicate, adorned with lines that formed flowers. 

“What is it, Dori?” Bilbo noticed his silence. 

“The vase.” He said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, that.” 

“Why would you have a vase here? Plants don’t tend to grow inside.” 

The hobbit smiled. 

“Thorin gave it to me after he proposed.” He said. “Apparently he had asked Gandalf if my magic can make plants grow.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. He said I could plant my acorn there.” Bilbo explained, his voice soft. “Then he told me, ‘this way you have to come back to me because we’ll have build a garden together to proper plant it, and we can grow old and see it becoming a strong, beautiful tree.’” 

Dori didn’t comment but he saw the way Bilbo’s eyes were wet.

“No one ever made me a promise like this before.” Bilbo said. 

“It’s a beautiful craftsmanship, Bilbo.” 

“It is.” He smiled.

Dori looked at the vase again and saw, for a moment, the future of Erebor. Gems adorning the Lonely Mountain and life growing inside it, with vibrant colors and fresh air. He had never seen the beauty of flowers or nature but in that delicate present, he could see that this wedding would bring many changes, good ones, and their kingdom would have great kings to make it happen. 

_We couldn't have asked for a better burglar, he stole the heart of the mountain and gave life to it_ , he thought to himself thinking about Thorin and how their leader had changed since the beginning of their quest. _There’s light in him now and hope in his eyes_.

Maybe not hope, but a certain hobbit that represented the same.

Dori smiled. He wouldn’t tell Ori this but he was sure everyone would see it in time, the fruits of a perfect union between a dwarf and a hobbit.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're almost finishing this fic!! 
> 
> You guys have been amazing with all your comments!! Thank you so much for all your love ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡
> 
> Hmmm...I'll probably post next chapter on Thursday or Friday


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